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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238328">the three truths</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cautiouslyoptimistic/pseuds/cautiouslyoptimistic'>cautiouslyoptimistic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:59:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>78,839</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cautiouslyoptimistic/pseuds/cautiouslyoptimistic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>there were three truths to clarke griffin, lexa knew</p>
<p>or, clarke asks lexa to pretend to be her girlfriend and drama ensues</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clarke Griffin/Lexa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>629</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello all! PSA: yes I am theahhamoment/transientpermanence, yes this is my fic, yes I am reuploading it after being a jerk and removing it years ago. (and I will not lie it is so hard to repost this without going through and changing it because whew rereading this fic really makes me question myself)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were three truths to Clarke Griffin, Lexa knew:</p><ol>
<li>Meeting her their sophomore year of college was a stroke of mere chance.</li>
<li>Becoming her friend by the end of their junior year was an active choice.</li>
<li>Falling in love with her by the time graduation rolled around…falling in love with her was an inevitability.</li>
</ol>
<p>There were three truths to Clarke Griffin, and Lexa had them memorized and etched into every crevice of her skull, swearing to herself—promising herself—these truths would never in any way influence her relationship with the blonde. And they don’t.</p>
<p>She was practiced in the art of hiding the depths of her feelings for the medical student.</p>
<p>She knew that when Clarke was drunk, she tended to become more outgoing, louder, talkative—tended to say painful things like how much she needed Lexa, how much she appreciated Lexa, how much she loved Lexa.</p>
<p>She knew that after a particularly hard day, Clarke liked to call her, how her guards went down for just a moment and things like ‘I miss you’ slipped from her lips.</p>
<p>She knew that when they got together, especially in environments that Clarke knew Lexa wouldn’t be comfortable in, Clarke would press against her side, never moving far away—never once asking if the heat of her skin bothered Lexa more than the heat of the bar. (Lexa knew that Clarke got particularly handsy on these nights, yet somehow she never found the strength to say anything.) </p>
<p>Lexa was practiced in the art of hiding her feelings for the medical student. She knew to avoid Clarke when she was drunk. Knew to text Clarke rather than chat with her on the phone on the days her guards were down. Knew to wear clothes that would make it impossible for her to feel Clarke’s skin against her own, knew that the easiest way to keep Clarke’s hands (her soft hands, igniting miniature flames against Lexa’s skin wherever they brushed, driving her mad, driving her past all her limits, making her want to stop fighting, stop pretending, stop, stop, stop, stop) was to buy her another drink, occupy her with talk of the men in the bar, asking which one she preferred—all the while pretending that this didn’t send shards of ice through her heart, that the fire against her skin spluttered out with nothing more than a whimper, that all her guards and protections flailed for a moment before regrouping and reforming and coming back stronger.</p>
<p>It was always easy, because Lexa had known Clarke for five years. It was always easy, because medical school kept Clarke busy, kept them out of bars, out of each other’s apartments, out of each other’s hair. Because Lexa spent more time reading and studying, couldn’t and wouldn’t answer Clarke’s calls. (She didn’t think about how the current distance between them made things easier, she didn’t think about why they’ve been so distant, she didn’t—she can’t—think about that.)</p>
<p>It was always easy, until it wasn’t.</p>
<p>“It’s important, Lexa. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.” (There were three truths to Clarke Griffin: 1. Meeting her was a stroke of mere chance.)</p>
<p>“I know. I just…I don’t understand.”</p>
<p>“You made the most sense.” (Three truths: 2. Becoming her friend was an active choice.)</p>
<p>“Because I’m the only one who’d agree?”</p>
<p>“Because you’re my best friend. Because I trust you…because you were believable. Acceptable.” (Three truths: 3. Falling in love with her…falling in love with her was inevitable.)</p>
<p>“Whatever you need, Clarke.”</p>
<p>“It’s only two weeks. And all the wine you could possibly want.”</p>
<p>“Like I said. Whatever you need.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lexa learned Clarke’s family was well off about halfway through their junior year.</p>
<p>It hadn’t been because Clarke was necessarily vocal about it. She just had that <em>laissez-faire </em>attitude that only the rich could ever really pull off, a disinterested stance towards money that gave her away as wealthy (for only the kids who grew up well off could ever just not care about the amount of cash in their pockets—always sure that there was more where that came from). She never counted her dollars like Lexa did. She never had to work two jobs just to cover tuition and necessities, like rent and food. And Lexa never begrudged her for her money; Clarke always treated Lexa with respect, and that was all she ever wanted from her anyway.</p>
<p>But knowing a family was well off and seeing it was two entirely different things.</p>
<p>The home itself was enormous, white, at least three stories, great pillars standing at the front, as if guarding the home from Lexa’s offensive gaze. Beyond the home (the mansion?) was acres of land—sloping, green, dotted with enormous oaks and dainty rose bushes. She even thought she could see the glistening of a lake from where she stood.</p>
<p>“It’s not ours,” Clarke said suddenly, forcing Lexa to turn away from the grounds and the pillars and the roses. “It’s my grandfather’s. Or was. He originally left it to my dad, but well, you know.” Lexa nodded, remembering the event that made her choose to become Clarke’s friend—the event that turned chance into an inevitability. (<em>“Don’t cry in here. If you want to cry, you have to do it properly. It can’t be in the girl’s bathroom in the library.”</em>)</p>
<p>“Whose is it now?”</p>
<p>“Marcus Kane’s. I think he worked with my dad.” At Lexa’s look, Clarke elaborated. “My dad hated this place. So my mom and I…”</p>
<p>“Right.”</p>
<p>“This isn’t the life I imagined for myself. I never wanted this.”</p>
<p>“Right.” Clarke pulled on Lexa’s arm, not letting her take out the last of their bags.</p>
<p>“Lexa. Do you remember the code word?” This—somehow, someway—got a smile out of her.</p>
<p>“You mean the word you told me I had to say if this all became too much?”</p>
<p>“You can say it.”</p>
<p>“I won’t say it.”</p>
<p>“Do you even remember it?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p>“Lexa.”</p>
<p>“Relax, Clarke. I remember it. And if I need to say it, I will. But not yet. I can deal with…this.” She gestured to enormous home, the expansive grounds, giving Clarke a grin. “So your grandfather…”</p>
<p>“He’s—he <em>was </em>eccentric, yeah,” Clarke said, grinning. She shouldered her bag and led Lexa into the empty home, moving quickly past the photos and paintings and living area and towards the large staircase. “He wanted everyone to be happy. So for two weeks—before the sale is finalized—every Griffin and their significant other is to celebrate. Pretty sure he wrote something about how he expected a grandkid to be born nine months after this ‘vacation.’” She was laughing, but Lexa—a connoisseur of all things Clarke Griffin—knew better, knew that Clarke was brokenhearted, knew that Clarke was hiding, knew that it was not the time to confront her.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Clarke. That I can’t do.”</p>
<p>“Aw man, and I’d been so hopeful.”</p>
<p>“I’m the wrong fake significant other if you wanted to go that route.”</p>
<p>“Bellamy said no when I asked him.” Lexa’s mouth fell open as she paused briefly on the steps.</p>
<p>“You asked him first?”</p>
<p>“Jealous?”</p>
<p>“Of course not,” she denied quickly. “Offended. Bellamy makes a terrible boyfriend. He’s also not very good at lying, whereas I’m learning to become a professional liar.”</p>
<p>“You’re in law school, Lexa.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I said.” Clarke just shook her head, not bothering to answer. Instead, they walked straight past the second story in silence before Clarke led the two of them down the hall of the third floor. More photos and paintings littered the walls, though they were different—less professional, more homely, as if this was the part of the house actually lived in, actually loved.</p>
<p>“This was our floor,” Clarke finally spoke as they went straight past the first three doors, only pausing at the very end of the hallway. “I spent more time up here and out on the grounds than anywhere else.” She opened the door slowly, as if afraid of what she’d find, but on the other side was just a normal—if unusually large—bedroom. There was an empty dresser, a nightstand on either side of the bed, a fancy wooden desk with an equally fancy chair, and a closet, empty except for a few cardboard boxes in the corner.</p>
<p>Lexa watched as Clarke’s shoulders sagged, as she leaned against the doorway, unable to enter the room, so she took a deep breath, pointedly taking the first step forward, letting her bag fall to the ground, letting herself collapse onto the bed. “Come on, Clarke,” she said, staring up at the ceiling, knowing Clarke was still at the doorway—knowing that she still couldn’t move. “This is a great bed.”</p>
<p>“Ah, the bed aficionado speaks.”</p>
<p>“Are you insinuating I sleep a lot?”</p>
<p>“Sleep around? Yes.”</p>
<p>“Jealous?” She couldn’t see Clarke’s expression, unable to get her answer (unsure why she so hoped that the answer was a resounding ‘yes,’ why her heart ached and screamed and begged for such a response). After a second, she felt the bed dip, felt Clarke’s warmth press up against her.</p>
<p>“Of you? No.” Lexa turned her head slightly, feeling her heart sink back into the depths of her feelings, feeling the familiar weight that she felt whenever she was around Clarke settle back on her chest. (<em>“Walls up!” </em>it seemed to cry<em>. “Guards up!”</em>)</p>
<p>“It’s just two weeks, Clarke,” she said, staring into her best friend’s blue eyes, staring into them and wondering who she was talking to—herself or Clarke. “Two weeks is manageable.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Clarke’s eyes were so blue. (<em>Guards up, guards up, guards up</em>!)</p>
<p>“Do you want to talk about Finn?” Clarke’s face blanked immediately, and she withdrew, shifting until she and Lexa were on opposite sides of the bed—only a few feet away, yet feeling like an insurmountable distance.</p>
<p>“We’re not talking about Finn. Ever.”</p>
<p>
  <em>It was always easy, until it wasn’t.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first half of the two-week ‘family festivities,’ Lexa quickly learned, would consist only of themselves, Clarke’s grandmother, Carol, and Abby.</p>
<p>“When Clarke told me you were coming, that the two of you were dating, I couldn’t believe it,” Abby Griffin said, pulling Lexa into a hug—only the second one she’d ever given Lexa (she’d blanked out the memory of the first hug, the reason she’d allowed herself to fall apart in the elder Griffin’s arms, allowed herself to be comforted). She let Lexa go after a moment, leading her to the kitchen and away from Clarke’s conversation with her grandmother. “I was still under the impression you and Clarke weren’t talking.”</p>
<p>“We worked things out.”</p>
<p>“Clearly,” Abby said, pouring herself a glass of water. “So? How’s your mom?”</p>
<p>“The same.”</p>
<p>“Has she started—”</p>
<p>“No. Not yet.”</p>
<p>“If it’s about the cost, I—”</p>
<p>“My mother is a proud woman, she won’t even take my money. She won’t take yours.” Abby nodded, sipping at her water.</p>
<p>“Have you told Clarke yet?” she finally asked.</p>
<p>“Dr. Griffin—”</p>
<p>“—Abby. I think you and I should be on first name basis now, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Right.” She coughed, looking away from Clarke’s mother, looking away from the doctor, the reminder. “I haven’t. Told Clarke yet, I mean.”</p>
<p>“Are you planning to? This isn’t something you can hide, you know.”</p>
<p>“I couldn’t risk having her get distracted. Now that she has some time off…now that she’s off, I’ll tell her.” Abby stared at her thoughtfully, head tilted to one side, blinking slowly. Finally—after what seemed like ages—she put her glass down on the countertop and leaned forward, giving Lexa a level stare.</p>
<p>“Lexa. You’re not a distraction to Clarke, you know that, right?”</p>
<p>“Yes—”</p>
<p>“I mean, anyone who’s seen you two together for more than a minute knows exactly how much you two care about each other.”</p>
<p>“Dr. Griffin—”</p>
<p>“—Abby.”</p>
<p>“Abby. I know. That wasn’t what I meant.” Abby pursed her lips then moved, patting Lexa on the shoulder as she strode past her.</p>
<p>“We all knew Clarke would eventually come around, Lexa honey. So why are you so surprised by it?” Without giving Lexa the chance to speak, Abby headed back towards the living room.</p>
<p>And Lexa went outside, strolling around the grounds with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your grandfather never made the ‘grandkid’ joke in his will, did he?” Lexa asked much later that night, Clarke laying stiffly next to her, her closeness at once suffocating and intoxicating.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“I believed you. Asked Carol about it.”</p>
<p>“I know. I heard.”</p>
<p>“She told me that he’d have loved to write it, that only ‘propriety’ made him decide not to.”</p>
<p>“Heard that too.”</p>
<p>“He sounds like he was a great man.”</p>
<p>“He was.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” She turned her head slightly, eyeing Clarke in the darkness. “I don’t think I said that yet. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Clarke said after a long silence. “Me too.” She shifted so that her back was to Lexa, and after a moment, Lexa mirrored her action. “He would have loved you,” Clarke muttered much later, clearly still just as wide awake as Lexa. “He would have loved you so much.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They sat next to each other at the table, accepting the eggs and bacon Carol piled onto their plates with identical smiles. Abby stared at them oddly, and Lexa had no idea why until she noticed that Clarke sat stiffly next to her—back straight, arms pressed tightly against her sides, as if afraid of touching Lexa. (<em>“My mom thinks I can’t do this. She called me unbalanced. I need to get her off my back, and you need to help me</em>.<em>”</em>)</p>
<p>“Clarke?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Coffee?” Clarke turned her head, eyed Lexa warily, like it was a trick question.</p>
<p>“I can get it.”</p>
<p>“But I’m offering.” Lexa stood, expecting Clarke to do the same, pleased that after everything, she still knew Clarke better than anyone else—still knew Clarke, still knew her. They walked to the kitchen in silence, but as Lexa poured two cups of coffee, Clarke broke.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with you?”</p>
<p>“With me? You’re acting like I’m a stranger.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Why am I here, Clarke?” When she continued to look confused, Lexa sighed, turning so that she faced her best friend. “We need to talk about Finn.”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Clarke, you can barely look at me. How is anyone supposed to believe we’re dating?”</p>
<p>“We said we are.”</p>
<p>“You can’t even meet my eyes now. If this is an attempt to get your mom off your back, it’s not going to work.”</p>
<p>“If? If it’s an attempt?”</p>
<p>“Why am I really here?” Clarke said nothing for a moment, just stared at Lexa with her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide. After a few seconds, her shoulders sagged, her expression cleared, and she let out a sigh.</p>
<p>“Let’s take a walk.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We probably should’ve ironed out the details before getting here,” Lexa said lightly, shivering without her jacket. She sat on the stone bench, her legs stretched out in front of her, her arms crossed over her chest, trying to stave off the cold as she looked up at Clarke.</p>
<p>“I kept thinking you would say the word. That you’d back out.”</p>
<p>“Clarke.”</p>
<p>“It slipped out,” she said, rocking back on her heels, her eyes on the branches above them. “She asked about you again and again, kept telling me that the fact that we weren’t talking was proof—”</p>
<p>“Clarke.”</p>
<p>“So I just said it. And it was too late to back out. I can’t. I can’t back out.”</p>
<p>“I get it.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>“You lied to your mom. You don’t need to lie to me.” Clarke’s eyes—her blue, blue eyes—flitted down, meeting Lexa’s gaze, her features hardening.</p>
<p>“I haven’t forgiven you.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“I just need you.”</p>
<p>“I get it.”</p>
<p>“Lexa.” She looked up again, moving so that she sat next to Lexa on the bench, their shoulders brushing. “Thank you for saying yes.” It was a peace offering, an olive branch, and Lexa gladly took it.</p>
<p>“I lied before,” she said lightly, bumping into Clarke’s shoulder with her own, turning to grin at her best friend and her blue, blue eyes. “If you’d asked Bellamy I would’ve been so jealous.” Clarke laughed, almost despite herself.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know.”</p>
<p>“We have a competition going and everything. The ‘Who’s Clarke Griffin’s Best Friend?’ game. We keep score and everything.”</p>
<p>“I’ve known him longer.”</p>
<p>“But I know you better.” Clarke nodded, leaning her head on Lexa’s shoulder, letting out a soft sigh.</p>
<p>“For a while, Lexa, I thought you knew me the best.” She didn’t say anything else, choosing instead to thread her fingers through Lexa’s, gripping tightly to her hand. There was nothing romantic or even friendly about the gesture—Lexa was suddenly her lifeline, and so she held on for dear life.</p>
<p>And Lexa let her. (Lexa would always let her.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Trouble in paradise, hon?” Carol asked, stirring the cake batter, looking at Lexa’s frustrated expression with blatant amusement. It took a second before Lexa even registered her words. (For a moment, she regretted not going out with Clarke and Abby, regretted offering to remain behind with Carol.)</p>
<p>“You mean between me and Clarke? No. Why?”</p>
<p>“The two of you seemed distant this morning, that’s all.”</p>
<p>“We had a fight,” Lexa admitted, adding more flour to her own bowl of batter, not liking the way Carol eyed it. “We’re good though.”</p>
<p>“James used to say that fights were the spice of married life.”</p>
<p>“Did you fight often?”</p>
<p>“If we did, I don’t remember. He had a habit of always coming around to my line of thinking.” Lexa laughed, wiping her brow with her sleeve, pushing the bowl away from her in defeat. Carol just rolled her eyes. “I take it you’re not much of a baker.”</p>
<p>“What gave it away?”</p>
<p>“The lost look in your eyes.”</p>
<p>“Clarke tried to teach me once. It was a friend’s birthday and we wanted something homemade. And it was a disaster.” Carol laughed, shaking her head as she emptied the contents of her bowl into a baking pan.</p>
<p>“I can imagine,” she said as she worked, her movements sure, precise, utterly natural. “So you’ve known my granddaughter for some time now.”</p>
<p>“Five years.”</p>
<p>“Last Christmas, when she was here with that boyfriend of hers, she mentioned you more than once. That’s when I knew you were something special.”</p>
<p>“I don’t—”</p>
<p>“I know my granddaughter, Lexa,” Carol interrupted, grinning slightly. She didn’t speak as she placed the baking pan into the oven, but when she turned back around—wiping her hands on her apron as she did so—her grin was still there.  She handed Lexa a paper towel, smiling slightly as she indicated the patches of flour on Lexa’s face.</p>
<p>“Did Clarke ever tell you what happened?”</p>
<p>“With the boy? No. But I saw the papers.”</p>
<p>“She doesn’t talk about it. About him. He was special. To her, he was everything.” Carol eyed her oddly and Lexa felt her cheeks heat up, knowing she’d said too much, knowing she gave herself away.</p>
<p>“It’s silly,” Carol said after a minute, looking at Lexa’s batter critically before adding a bit of water and stirring. “People think that only the ones we love can break our hearts, but it doesn’t work that way.”  </p>
<p>“How does it work?”</p>
<p>“Anyone can break our hearts, but it’s the ones who love us that put it back together.” She pushed Lexa’s bowl of cake batter towards her, grinning once more. “There now. It’s perfect. We’ll make a baker out of you yet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I tricked your grandmother into liking me today.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“How?”</p>
<p>“I was charming.”</p>
<p>“You know how to be charming?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. It worked with you, right?” Clarke shifted, propping herself up on her elbows, staring down at Lexa.</p>
<p>“I thought you’d make a bigger deal out of sharing a bed with me.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Remember that girl in our Economics class? The one you were crushing on for weeks before you managed to ask her out?”</p>
<p>“Clarke…you realize that I didn’t just share a bed with her, right?”</p>
<p>“That’s not my point.”</p>
<p>“Then what?”</p>
<p>“It’s just…”</p>
<p>“Just what?” Clarke didn’t speak for so long that Lexa was sure she’d dropped the subject. But then, the words came flowing out of her, quickly and furiously.</p>
<p>“Before you started dating, before your <em>thing</em>, she got drunk and you wouldn’t let her drive home, so you let her crash at our apartment and you refused to sleep in the same bed as her. I remember. You slept on the ground that night.” Lexa frowned.</p>
<p>“I don’t—”</p>
<p>“Why? Why did you sleep on the ground?”</p>
<p>“Because I was drunk too. Because I didn’t want to do something we’d regret. I was trying to be respectful. But what does that have to do with me and you, Clarke?” When she didn’t answer, Lexa huffed, sitting up and getting out from under the covers. “You want me to sleep on the ground? Fine.”</p>
<p>“Lexa—”</p>
<p>“I don’t get it. We’ve slept in the same bed before. In college, after you started med school and couldn’t sleep…” She trailed off as she realized the problem. “This is about Finn. Of course it is.”</p>
<p>“Lexa, that’s—” But she wasn’t listening, wasn’t willing to listen anymore.</p>
<p>“It keeps coming back to that, doesn’t it? Hate me so much you can’t even bear to be near me, right?”</p>
<p>“Lexa—” She shook her head, grabbing her pillow and tossing it on the ground.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Clarke. You only have to suffer my presence for just thirteen more days.” Without bothering to wait for a response or a reaction, Lexa left the bed and laid back on the floor, the tightness in her chest making it hard to breathe, making it hard to think.</p>
<p>(There were three truths to Clarke Griffin, Lexa knew.)</p>
<p>Her heart ached. Her eyes burned. The code word flashed in her mind, and she wondered if she ought to have said it.</p>
<p>(One, she had walls and shields that rivaled Lexa’s, though while Lexa’s were to keep things in, Clarke’s walls kept everything out.)</p>
<p>She knew Clarke, knew her better than anyone. And on some level she knew, just knew, that if she wasn’t such a liar—if she bothered to sit Clarke down and was honest with her—most of their problems could be cleared right up.</p>
<p>(Two, she could lie as easily as she breathed. Lied about her wellbeing, lied about her feelings, lied, lied, lied, just like Lexa. Just like Lexa.)</p>
<p>Lexa rolled over onto her side, facing the wall, feeling cold and regretting not grabbing one of the blankets and not feeling brave enough to take one now. She was cold, Clarke was cold, and wasn’t that just fitting?</p>
<p>(Three, if Carol was right, then Clarke did not love her—would never love her—because Lexa only felt more broken when she was around her.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My daughter-in-law is a smart woman,” Carol told Lexa the next morning. Her back ached and she wore a thick sweater, still cold from spending the night on the hard floor, and she wasn’t quite up for whatever Carol wanted to say. But just as she turned to apologetically tell the older woman just that, she noticed Carol’s small grin, the slight roll of her eyes.</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“Clearly you don’t, because if you think you and Clarke are going to be able to fool her with the train-wreck you have going, you’ve got another thing coming.” She handed Lexa a cup of coffee, one eyebrow raised. “Get your shit together, hon.”</p>
<p>“Sorry, what?”</p>
<p>“I know my granddaughter, Lexa. And I spent an entire afternoon baking with you. It’s not rocket science—the two of you aren’t dating.”</p>
<p>“Clarke told me to lie. I didn’t want to.”</p>
<p>“Way to throw her under the bus, hon. Great show of solidarity there.”</p>
<p>“She just wants Abby to leave her alone.”</p>
<p>“I know. My daughter-in-law is…well, for lack of a better word, she’s intense. And that’s why I’m going to help you.” Lexa sipped the coffee, staring at the older woman with wide eyes, utterly impressed.</p>
<p>“Okay. How?”</p>
<p>“First of all, don’t argue all the time. And a little PDA every now and then would be acceptable.”</p>
<p>“Okay…”</p>
<p>“And for the love of all that is good and holy in the world, stop letting her walk all over you. Show some backbone. Some fire. Clarke needs someone to be her friend, and sometimes that means telling her when she’s being an idiot.” Carol eyed her over her mug, and she grinned widely and unashamedly. “Lexa Woods,” she said, chuckling for whatever reason, “welcome to the family.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: I laughed at my own lame jokes while rereading this chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’d met outside the library.</p>
<p>It had been cold, wet, a miserable sort of week, each breath taken feeling like inhaling all the ingredients necessary for pneumonia. She had been tired, she had been awake for over thirty-six hours, she hadn’t been watching where she was going, bumping hard into the blonde as she exited the library, rubbing her eyes and mentally trying to keep herself prepared for her next exam.</p>
<p>“You know, it’s proven that students do worse while sleep deprived,” the girl said as she steadied Lexa, as she helped Lexa pick up her things. “A nap would be better than a cram session.”</p>
<p>“Psych major?”</p>
<p>“Biology.”</p>
<p>“God, even worse.” The girl laughed and Lexa rubbed her eyes again, took her things with a pained smile. “Sorry I bumped into you.”</p>
<p>“It happens.”</p>
<p>“Right. Well. Sorry again.” The girl smiled.</p>
<p>“Good luck on your exam.” Lexa nodded, hearing her, not really comprehending the words, focused mostly on the girl’s blue eyes and kind smile. Even much later, that was what stuck about the encounter. Not the sleep deprivation warnings, but the blue eyes, the kind smile.</p>
<p>(Three truths: 1. Meeting Clarke Griffin was a stroke of mere chance.)</p>
<p>She should have known, she thought. The day she saw Clarke’s blue eyes and kind smile, the day they met because Lexa hadn’t studied for her exam until the last minute, she should have known she was a goner. (Because no one ever dreams about seeing those blue eyes again unless that person made an impression.)</p>
<p>Five years later, Lexa wished she’d been just a tad more addled that day. Just a tad more uncomprehending. Because then she wouldn’t be where she was now: Abby deciding she wanted to get to know Lexa better. Abby deciding that she and Lexa needed to ‘spend a day together.’</p>
<p>Carol telling Abby that Lexa needed to learn how to ‘bake a goddamn cake first.’</p>
<p>“We baked yesterday,” Lexa complained, eyeing the eggs, flour, and vanilla extract uncomfortably. Clarke sat on one of the stools, a heavy textbook on her lap, looking up from her studying long enough to flash her grandmother a fond smile. “What did you even do with the cakes?”</p>
<p>“The one you made or the one I made?”</p>
<p>“You threw mine out, didn’t you?” The older woman grinned, pulling out a cookbook, handing it to Lexa with a flourish.</p>
<p>“I did.”</p>
<p>“That bad?”</p>
<p>“Pretty bad,” Clarke commented, not looking up from her book.</p>
<p>“You can’t use school as an excuse to not help. You’re off.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t mean I can stop studying.” Lexa opened her mouth to argue, but Carol shook her head.</p>
<p>“Clarke already knows how to bake. You don’t.”</p>
<p>“Abby doesn’t bake and she’s not here.”</p>
<p>“She was offended that she couldn’t spend the day with you. So she ‘went out,’” Clarke said, turning a page, shaking her head. “She thinks I don’t know—”</p>
<p>“Clarke—”</p>
<p>“Don’t know what?” Lexa asked, looking from Carol to Clarke, utterly confused.</p>
<p>“She doesn’t want to be here,” Clarke said, finally looking up from her textbook, her blue eyes—the ones Lexa fell in love with on a cold, wet day, in front of the library—hard and unforgiving. “She hates it here. It reminds her of my dad.” She swallowed, looked down, then shut her book, practically jumping off her stool. “I’ll go study upstairs.” Lexa watched as she left, and without any actual thought on her part, she made to follow her before Carol grabbed her by the elbow and held her back.</p>
<p>“Let her be, hon. We have a cake to bake.”</p>
<p>“She’s hurting, she needs me.”</p>
<p>“She needs you to give her some time. Go up in half an hour or so—let her decide if she wants to need you.” Lexa stared at her, shocked, but Carol just gestured to the cake ingredients.</p>
<p>“She needs me,” she repeated, no real fight in her tone.</p>
<p>“I know,” Carol said sadly, shrugging. “But give her time anyway.”</p>
<p>She went up an hour later with a cup of tea as a peace offering. But when she opened the door, Clarke was sitting next to the unopened cardboard boxes, fast asleep. With a sigh, Lexa pulled the covers off the bed and draped it around Clarke’s shoulders, then settled down across from her.</p>
<p>(Three truths: 2. Becoming her friend was an active choice.)</p>
<p>She’d seen her around campus. Saw her in coffee shops, ran into her at a bookstore, ended up at the university’s cafeteria at the same time. They never really acknowledged these passing glimpses, never acknowledged that on a cold, wet day, Lexa had rammed into Clarke and Clarke had lectured a total stranger on the detriments of sleep deprivation.</p>
<p>But then they took Sociology together.</p>
<p>It was a large class, Lexa had only taken it because she’d heard the professor was interesting and easy, and ten minutes into the first lecture, she found herself staring at the back of a blonde head, wondering why it looked so familiar. (It took her three more lectures before she gathered the courage to sit next to Clarke. Another one after that before she introduced herself and properly apologized for running into her on that cold, wet day. By the eighth or ninth lecture—she stopped counting—they began to actually talk. Small talk, but talk nonetheless. Then suddenly, Clarke stopped showing up to class.)</p>
<p>“Lexa?”</p>
<p>“I’m here.” Clarke stared at her for a moment, her blue eyes red rimmed, looking soft, looking open, looking vulnerable.</p>
<p>“I want to make a closet joke,” she said, grinning, and Lexa watched as her best friend shut down, as she turned away for a moment and seemed to remember that she wasn’t letting Lexa in anymore—that she couldn’t be vulnerable in front of Lexa anymore—and Lexa’s heart stuttered and puttered and fluttered for a moment before resuming its normal, agonizing, beat.</p>
<p>“I’m not in the closet.”</p>
<p>“Literally, though. Literally, you kinda are.”  </p>
<p>“You were here first.”</p>
<p>“Ah touché. So. How did cake baking go?”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin has proclaimed me to be a lost cause.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that sounds about right.”</p>
<p>“She wants to try cookies tomorrow. She says screwing up cakes she can forgive. But cookies are an absolute must in the Griffin family.”</p>
<p>“Part of the family, are you?”</p>
<p>“She knows, you know. That we’re lying. But she’s helping because she says Abby is too intense.”</p>
<p>“And she’s teaching you Griffin secrets? She must really like you. We take our cookies very seriously.” It was a joke, Lexa knew that. But somehow, the words felt like knives, the tone felt like a twist. For a moment, Lexa felt all the air leave her lungs, leaving her gasping, reeling, heaving.</p>
<p>“Clarke.”</p>
<p>“I mean, this is super serious. It’s like an initiation into our family,” Clarke said, not noticing or not caring about Lexa’s sudden inability to breathe.</p>
<p>“Clarke.”</p>
<p>“I guess that’s the one good thing that’ll come out of this. You’ll become my grandmother’s honorary granddaughter.”</p>
<p>“Clarke,” Lexa said a third time, leaning forward and grabbing her wrist. “Please. Stop.”</p>
<p>“What?” Her eyes were wide, concerned, for a moment letting go of everything—for a moment forgetting her anger. Her eyes were so blue, and Lexa was transported back in time, to the front of a library on a cold, wet day.</p>
<p>“My mom is sick,” she said, her voice low, her tone somehow remaining even. “She’s really sick.”</p>
<p>(Three truths: Becoming her friend was an active choice.)</p>
<p>
  <em>“What’re you doing in here?” she’d asked, hearing Clarke in the girls’ restroom, locked in one of the stalls. “You haven’t been showing up to class.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone.” Clarke had replied, and Lexa leaned against the stall’s door, unsure what to do. She could leave. She didn’t know Clarke—she had no reason to do anything. She could leave without another word.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Don’t cry in here. If you want to cry, you have to do it properly. It can’t be in the girl’s bathroom in the library. Come on, Clarke. My mom sent me cookies. We can share.” There was a long pause, the sound of sniffling, and then, the stall’s door was opened and Clarke stepped forward with a hesitant, vulnerable, heartbreaking nod. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“He’s gone, Lexa.” </em>
</p>
<p>Clarke stared at her for just a second before she moved, crawling over to Lexa and pulling the covers over them both, pulling Lexa into an embrace. “You should have told me,” she whispered, no real reproach in her tone.</p>
<p>“You haven’t forgiven me.”</p>
<p>“You should have told me,” she repeated, pressing her lips to Lexa’s temple, holding her tightly, and Lexa allowed herself to be held, allowed herself to feel Clarke’s warmth—allowed herself to be comforted by Clarke’s presence.</p>
<p>(Three truths: 3. Falling in love with her, falling in love with her was an inevitability.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clarke held her hand during dinner.</p>
<p>She didn’t know if it was because she still wanted to offer comfort or if it was because Abby had glanced at them oddly before helping herself to a second serving of mashed potatoes, or even if it was because Carol kept winking at them, clearly approving of the effort they were putting in into looking like a ‘real couple,’ something she said would be harder to accomplish once the rest of the family started arriving.</p>
<p>Clarke held her hand during dinner, and Lexa had no idea what she ate, her entire focus on the warmth of Clarke’s fingers, on the way her thumb absently ghosted over Lexa’s knuckles, the way she squeezed every now and then, as if assuring Lexa that she was still there—that she still intended to offer comfort.</p>
<p>Clarke held her hand throughout dinner, and that was all Lexa thought about because it was easier. It was easier—normal, even—to think about Clarke and block out the invading, pervading, invasive sadness that crept into her chest and clenched at her heart and chewed away at her walls and guards and protections. It was easier, and Lexa desperately needed easy.</p>
<p>Lexa gripped Clarke’s hand during dinner, treated her as a lifeline during dinner, and Clarke, Clarke let her.</p>
<p>(Clarke had always let her.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If your mom was sick, why did you agree to this?”</p>
<p>“It’s only two weeks.”</p>
<p>“You should be with her.”</p>
<p>“She said the same thing about you.” A pause. A deep breath. The sound of shifting from above her.</p>
<p>“Lexa?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Don’t sleep on the ground.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Just…please. Will you please come back?” A pause. A deep breath. The sound of creaking joints as she got to her feet and slid into the bed.</p>
<p>“It was freezing down there.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“Clarke?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry about Finn.” A pause, a deep breath, the sudden shift and the press of Clarke’s lips to Lexa’s cheek.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Me too.”</p>
<p>“I don’t expect you to forgive me.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“That’s not why I’m here. Why I’m doing this.”</p>
<p>“Why are you here then?” A pause, a deep breath, the swallowing down of the truth that desperately wanted to burst from her lips.</p>
<p>“You needed me.” A pause, a deep breath, and Clarke’s fingers thread through Lexa’s.</p>
<p>(They wake up still holding hands.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Abby is suspicious,” Carol told Lexa, rolling her eyes as Lexa changed the channel yet again. “Just pick one. You can’t watch two movies at the same time.”</p>
<p>“But it’s way more fun this way.” She paused, muted the television, and turned to the older woman she sat knitting on the other side of the couch. “What do you mean she’s suspicious?”</p>
<p>“Have you ever had a girlfriend, Lexa?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Seriously?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Carol shook her head, looping the yarn around the needle as she spoke.</p>
<p>“Okay. So imagine Clarke as that girlfriend.”</p>
<p>“I’d really rather not.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“Bad breakup.”</p>
<p>“Oh. I see.”</p>
<p>“You see? What do you see?” Lexa turned so that she faced the older woman completely, no longer interested in either of the movies she was watching. They could hear Abby and Clarke chatting in the kitchen as they rinsed the breakfast dishes. Carol leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper.</p>
<p>“This whole trying to pretend you don’t love her thing just isn’t working.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?”</p>
<p>“You get all guarded and standoffish. It’s because you love her.”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t make any sense,” Lexa said, shaking her head, her heart hammering away. Had she been so obvious? Had Clarke seen it too? Had Clarke decided it wasn’t even worth mentioning?</p>
<p>“Normally, I’d agree with you. But you’re not a normal girl, are you? You’re the kind of girl who’d do anything for the person you loved, even pretend you don’t love them.”</p>
<p>“Again, that makes no sense.”</p>
<p>“Are you holding back because of the boy?”</p>
<p>“You don’t know what happened.”</p>
<p>“I know enough.”</p>
<p>“Then you know she hates me.”  </p>
<p>“Oh sweetheart. You don’t ask the person you hate for help—you ask the person you trust.”</p>
<p>“Those aren’t mutually exclusive things.”</p>
<p>“With Clarke? With Clarke, they are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She started dating Finn towards the end of their senior year.</p>
<p>Lexa, who had been friends for Clarke for months, who was quickly realizing that she considered Clarke one of her closest friends, was the first to hear of this development.</p>
<p>“He’s funny and sweet, Lexa,” Clarke had said, lying back on Lexa’s bed, a soft smile on her face. “I really like him.”</p>
<p>“I can tell,” she’d laughed, shoving Clarke gently, lying down beside her, their shoulders, arms, thighs brushing. “So turn on that Griffin charm.”</p>
<p>“What about you and that girl in our Economics class? Have you even talked to her yet?”</p>
<p>“She’s coming to our party.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“That’s…that’s great, Lexa. I’m glad.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve decided. Not only will I help you with my daughter-in-law, but I’ll help you with Clarke.”</p>
<p>“With all due respect, Mrs. Griffin, your husband just died. I don’t think Clarke and I are a priority.” Carol snorted, shaking her head, grabbing the remote and changing the channel once more.</p>
<p>“You didn’t know James. The man would come back and haunt me if I don’t fix his favorite granddaughter’s relationship before his funeral.” She snorted again, leaning back against the couch, her knitting forgotten. “It’s really a damn shame.”</p>
<p>“I don’t really know what to say.”   </p>
<p>“You don’t need to say anything. It’s been decided.”</p>
<p>“I just…I just think it may be better to give up on it. Clarke’s…Clarke’s my best friend.”</p>
<p>“What did I say about backbone?”</p>
<p>“That I needed to show some.”</p>
<p>“Exactly. Now sit up straight, stop moping, and just accept this will happen.” Lexa stared at her, blinked slowly, then let out a sigh.</p>
<p>“She doesn’t feel the same way, Mrs. Griffin,” she said, shrugging helplessly. “She just doesn’t.”</p>
<p>“Lexa?”</p>
<p>“Right, I know. Fire. Backbone. Etcetera.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Three truths: 3. Falling in love with her. Falling in love with her was inevitable.)</p>
<p>They disagreed about everything.</p>
<p>Things as simple as dinner plans turned into loud and long arguments, and invariably, Clarke would end up in Lexa’s room, laying in bed together, staring up at the ceiling.</p>
<p>“I think he might be cheating on me,” she said one night, eyes dry for once, tone even despite the fact that she’d been arguing with Finn for the last hour.</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“What should I do?” Clarke turned to face her, and Lexa suddenly felt overwhelmed by her scent, her warmth, her mere presence. The blue eyes, the tiny quirk of her lips, the fact that she was so close, so close, so close…</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Lexa whispered, knowing she was too close, hearing warning bells going off in her mind, sure that she was seconds away from doing something stupid. (Blue eyes call to her, and it hit her at once, understanding. She understood why she and the girl from her Economics class didn’t last. She understood why she felt a tug in her chest every time Finn’s name was mentioned. She understood why, right now, she wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, to feel Clarke’s lips against her own, to taste her, to breathe her in, to eliminate that emptiness that had taken up residence within her. She understood, she understood now: She was in love with her best friend.)</p>
<p>“Lexa?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think I love him.” Unbidden, Lexa’s hand moved slightly, moved to grip Clarke’s. (<em>Stop! </em>her brain cells cried, <em>stop! Abort, abort, abort!</em>)</p>
<p>“That’s okay.”</p>
<p>“My family hated him. They tried to hide it, but they couldn’t.”</p>
<p>“That’s okay.”</p>
<p>“He broke one of the ornaments. From our Christmas tree.”</p>
<p>“Oh, well now that’s unforgivable.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I said! He told me I was taking an ornament too seriously.”</p>
<p>“It’s like he doesn’t know you at all.”</p>
<p>“Exactly!” They stared at each other and Clarke broke first, bursting into giggles, burying her face into the crook of Lexa’s neck in an attempt to stifle her laughs. Unbidden, Lexa’s arm wrapped around Clarke’s shoulders. Unbidden, Lexa’s body seemed to meld with Clarke’s.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Clarke. You know that right?” A pause, a contented sigh, pressing even closer to Lexa.</p>
<p>“I’m with you. It’s always okay when I’m with you,” she said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The way I figure it, the major goal of this operation is to get Abby to leave Clarke alone."</p>
<p>"That's actually the only goal, Mrs. Griffin."</p>
<p>"The secondary objective is to make Clarke see the truth," the older woman continued, ignoring Lexa entirely. "Make her see she loves you."</p>
<p>"You don't just wake up one morning and think, oh yeah. I think I may be in love with my best friend."</p>
<p>"Isn't that how it happened with you?"</p>
<p>"Actually, my realization came before falling asleep." Carol shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.</p>
<p>"I don't appreciate sass young lady."</p>
<p>"Mrs. Griffin, please. Just drop it."</p>
<p>"Drop what?" Clarke asked as she and her mother walked into the living room. Carol gave Lexa a not so subtle wink and turned to her daughter-in-law and granddaughter with a wide grin.</p>
<p>"I'm tired, and my knees ache. So I asked Lexa here to go buy a few groceries but she says she's too busy to run errands for an old woman."</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"I'll go," Clarke offered, speaking over Lexa's sputtering.</p>
<p>"Take Lexa with you," Abby said, raising her eyebrows. "I'll take a look at Carol's knees. Has your arthritis been acting up more lately?" Carol got to her feet, and the second Abby's back was turned she winked at Lexa before gesturing for the two of them to go.</p>
<p>"I don't even know what you want," Lexa hissed. Carol shrugged and Clarke grabbed Lexa by the elbow and pulled her in the opposite direction.</p>
<p>"Let's go. It'll get us out of the house for a while."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was cheating on her. They broke up before graduation.</p>
<p>For months afterwards, Lexa tried to come up with ways to tell Clarke the truth. Tell her, bluntly, honestly, about how she felt. Tell her with a longwinded confession, with a rambling note, with an email without any sort of clarity.</p>
<p>For months, Lexa planned, agonized, hoped, suffered, ached. For months, she felt that perhaps—maybe—Clarke felt the same things. That maybe—perhaps—the confession would be well received.</p>
<p>Until the first week of September.</p>
<p>They all went out. (Lexa should’ve said no.) They were celebrating surviving their first week of classes. (Lexa had heard inklings from Anya that their mother was ill. Lexa should’ve said no to Clarke.) It was just a bar, Finn was just there as a friend. (She should’ve said no. She should’ve known better.)</p>
<p>(She really, really should’ve known better.)</p>
<p>“So how long? How long have you been in love with her?”</p>
<p>“You’re drunk, Finn.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” he slurred, unsteady on his feet. “Tell me the truth.”</p>
<p>“You’re drunk, and I promised Clarke I’d get you home. So come on.”</p>
<p>“You two lived together senior year. And I could tell. I could tell. You loved her. You love her.”</p>
<p>“Finn.”</p>
<p>“I told her she couldn’t hate me for cheating on her because she was fucking you. That’s why she broke up with me. ‘Cause I said she wanted to fuck you.”</p>
<p>“Finn, shut up. Shut up and get in the car.”</p>
<p>“How long after she was single did you wait? To tell her? I wouldn’t have waited long if I were you. She couldn’t wait to run from me to you.”</p>
<p>“I swear to—”</p>
<p>“Picked fights all the time. Then ran to you. I knew it, I knew why. And it fucking pissed me off.”</p>
<p>“Finn—”</p>
<p>“I hate you. I hate you. You’re the reason we broke up.” He stepped forward, and Lexa clenched her fists, glaring at him.</p>
<p>“I’m going to call you a cab. I’ll stay here until it gets here. But after that, you and me? We’re through.”</p>
<p>“Don’t pretend. We were never friends. You hate me. I hate you. But you got the girl. You.”</p>
<p>“I’m calling you a cab.”</p>
<p>(She really, really should’ve known better.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The grocery store was only a ten-minute drive out.</p>
<p>They drove in silence, parked the car in silence, entered the store with a buggy in silence. Clarke grabbed a few boxes of her favorite cereal, Lexa picked up colorful skeins of yarn for Carol, and they ambled through the frozen foods, both of them choosing an ice cream flavor—all of this also in total silence.</p>
<p>“What’s going on between you and my grandmother?” Clarke finally asked when they began checking out their items. “You’re as thick as thieves lately.”</p>
<p>“She doesn’t think I have it in me to convince Abby we’re dating. She’s coaching me.” It wasn’t a total lie, Lexa convinced herself. Not really.</p>
<p>“Shouldn’t I be a part of it too, then?”</p>
<p>“She trusts you. But not me.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“Oh?”</p>
<p>“It’s just…I think she really likes you.”</p>
<p>“Is that a good or bad thing?” Clarke frowned, paying for their items before turning back to Lexa with a shrug.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” she said.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: I wrote this five years ago, before ever having fallen in love or having my heart broken. wild</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time she had to actively fight against her feelings for Clarke, it was merely a week before graduation. Clarke and Finn had broken up only days before, and she’d taken to sleeping next to Lexa, claiming she wasn’t willing to spend the night alone. (She was lonely, she said. She was sad, she said. Would it be okay, she asked. Lexa was helpless to say anything but <em>of course</em>.)</p>
<p>She woke up with Clarke pressed against her.</p>
<p>It wasn’t innocent. Their legs were tangled, Clarke’s back pressed firmly to Lexa’s front, Lexa’s hand resting on the curve of Clarke’s hip, fingers splayed out, face pressing into Clarke’s neck, lips against her ear. It wasn’t innocent, because Lexa woke up with her heart beating too fast, with heat pooling in her belly, between her legs, and all she wanted was to move slightly. To kiss Clarke down the slope of her neck, to hover over her, look into her deep, blue eyes as she eliminated any and all distance between them—eliminated the inches of free space, eliminated the clothes, eliminated, eliminated, eliminated.</p>
<p>It wasn’t innocent.</p>
<p>And she knew, she knew, that Clarke was lonely. That she was sad. That she just didn’t want to be alone at night. And it was easy, it was effortless, to quell the desire welling up, to stamp out her needs, her wants, and focus only on Clarke. It was easy to move away, create distance rather than eliminate it.</p>
<p>It was always easy. Until it wasn’t.</p>
<p>The kiss was supposed to be innocent. A ‘practice run’ Clarke had called it, in case they needed to kiss in front of anyone (a point made by Carol after they came back from their trip to the grocery store, barely acknowledging each other).</p>
<p>“You two are colder than the weather. It’s ridiculous. I can’t even believe you’re friends, let alone girlfriends.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin—”</p>
<p>“All you do is say no, Lexa. Come on. What if someone asks you to pucker up? They always do that in the movies.” Clarke had agreed, claimed it would be quick—a dry run. She had grabbed Lexa’s hand and led her upstairs, surprising her by stopping on the second floor, pressing her against the wall, crashing her lips to Lexa’s.</p>
<p>It was supposed to be innocent.</p>
<p>But Clarke was warm and tasted like hot chocolate, she was warm and her hands gripped Lexa’s waist, she was warm, and she tilted her head to the side, deepening the kiss. Because when Lexa’s hands went up to her neck, to tangle in her hair, Clarke let out a soft moan, pressing even further into her—as if she wanted them to become one, to eliminate the distance, eliminate, eliminate, eliminate.</p>
<p>It was supposed to be innocent.</p>
<p>It wasn’t innocent.</p>
<p>It wasn’t innocent, and it was hard—it was near impossible—for Lexa to break away, to push Clarke back, to shake her head.</p>
<p>“Stop,” she managed, one word, one word, somehow making Clarke’s face fall with the one word.</p>
<p>“That was—”</p>
<p>“Wrong.” She shook her head some more, not meeting Clarke’s eyes, not wanting to see more anger, more hate, more revulsion (she had seen all that and more after Finn, she was tired, oh so tired. It used to be easy. It used to be so very easy). “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Clarke said after a moment, and Lexa’s eyes flit up to meet hers, shocked by the desolation she sees. “Me too. It didn’t mean anything.”</p>
<p>“Right. Nothing.”</p>
<p>“So…?”</p>
<p>“We’re good.” She coughed, clearing her throat. “I’ll, uh. Let Mrs. Griffin know.”</p>
<p>“That’s a bit weird, right?”</p>
<p>“She’ll ask. I just want it out of the way.”</p>
<p>“Okay. Yeah. I’ll go…read.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>“Clarke? Still hate me?” Clarke’s features, which had quickly gone back to the blank slate she worked at—the emotionless expression she constantly kept up—softened almost immediately.</p>
<p>“Oh, Lexa. No, I never hated you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hand me the chocolate chips.”</p>
<p>“Are you really going to force me to apologize?”</p>
<p>“I want you to admit you did something stupid.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t!”</p>
<p>“You said she kissed you. Like, not just a peck. A real smooch. And you just waved it off as a mistake?” Lexa nodded.</p>
<p>“Yes. That’s exactly what I did.”</p>
<p>“Okay then. Admit you did something stupid.”</p>
<p>“I stopped her from making a mistake, Mrs. Griffin.” The older woman shook her head, tossing her spoon down with a tad more force than strictly necessary.</p>
<p>“Don’t you think she’s a big girl? Don’t you think she can figure things out on her own?”</p>
<p>“Well, yeah, but—”</p>
<p>“There are no buts, Lexa. The girl wanted to kiss you, wanted you, and you just pushed her away.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know that. You don’t know how much I hurt her.”</p>
<p>“No, what I know is that you’re hurting so much that you’re not even willing to contemplate that Clarke may have feelings for you. Clarke isn’t the obstacle, hon. You are.” She gave Lexa a significant look, raising her eyebrows, then picked up her spoon and continued stirring the cookie dough.</p>
<p>“I’m not hurting,” Lexa said after a long silence, merely watching the older woman work.</p>
<p>“You are.”</p>
<p>“What would I be hurt about?”</p>
<p>“A broken heart.” Lexa shook her head, ready to argue, but Carol was too fast. “I love Clarke. She’s smart, kindhearted, selfless to a fault. But she’s also blind.” </p>
<p>“No—”</p>
<p>“Don’t argue, I’ve known her longer. She jumps to conclusions, passes judgments too quickly, refuses to listen to her heart. She’s probably loved you from the moment she met you, but she won’t be able to admit to herself.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin, I just—”</p>
<p>“She’s blind, and she’s breaking your heart.” Something passed over Carol’s face and she put the spoon down again, walking over to where Lexa stood, taking her by the shoulders and looking right into her eyes (Lexa tried to ignore how they were blue, not as startling or bright as Clarke’s, but blue nonetheless). “Promise me, Lexa. Promise me right now that you won’t spend your entire life waiting for her to open her eyes.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin—”</p>
<p>“I know you’d do it. I know you feel like you have to. But you can’t. you can’t just give and give and get nothing in return. So promise me. Promise me that if the two of you haven’t worked things out by the time you go back to school, you’ll move on.”</p>
<p>“It’s not that easy.”</p>
<p>“It is. It has to be. You can’t let her keep breaking your heart. No matter how much you love her.” She tightened her grip on Lexa’s shoulders and after a moment, Lexa found herself nodding shakily.</p>
<p>“Okay. I promise.”</p>
<p>“Good girl,” Carol said, patting Lexa softly on the cheek. “Now. We’re going to put the dough in the refrigerator for a while. So it won’t spread as much when we bake it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first person to arrive was Clarke’s Aunt Elizabeth, who Lexa quickly learned was much more like Carol than she’d like.</p>
<p>“So you’re the girlfriend,” Elizabeth said, raising her eyebrows. “For some reason, when Mom described you, I thought you’d be…taller.”</p>
<p>“I’m a perfectly acceptable height.”</p>
<p>“I know. It’s weird. You’re like, perfectly proportioned. Where’d you find her, Clarke? Some factory?”</p>
<p>“She’s not a robot, Aunt Liz.”</p>
<p>“Talks like one.”</p>
<p>“Well, she’s not.”</p>
<p>“Hey. Do you know Asimov’s Laws?”</p>
<p>“Aunt Liz. She’s not a robot.”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay. Just checking.” She grinned though, holding out a hand for Lexa to shake. “No hard feelings, right Lexa?”</p>
<p>“…right.”   </p>
<p>“It was a long flight, guys. So I’m going to go take a nap. Or twenty. Haven’t decided. When are John and Hannah getting here? Are they bringing their families? Will everyone be discussing my lack of a husband? Can I just claim I want to be like Clarke?” She rattled off more questions, talking animatedly to Carol and Abby as they went to have a cup of tea before she took her ‘nap or twenty’ and Lexa found herself turning to Clarke in awe.</p>
<p>“It’s like no one told her why she’s here. Your entire family…just seems so okay with your grandfather’s passing.” Clarke swallowed hard and shrugged.</p>
<p>“He’d been sick for a while. He made everyone promise. It’s not supposed to be sad so Aunt Liz is coping by talking. That’s her thing.”</p>
<p>“What’s your thing?”  Clarke smiled sadly and shrugged again.</p>
<p>“I do things I shouldn’t do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you’re a law student?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Elizabeth opened her mouth (probably to ask another question), but at that moment, Lexa’s phone rang and she quickly excused herself, rushing outside. The night air was frigid, and after a few seconds she regretted not wearing a second jacket.</p>
<p>“Hello?”</p>
<p>“<em>Hey, Lexa. How’s the fake dating thing going?</em>”</p>
<p>“About as well as expected. How’s Mom?” Anya paused on the other end of the line, cleared her throat, and Lexa could practically see her shrugging.</p>
<p>“<em>She says it’s the same, but I can tell the pain is worse.</em>”</p>
<p>“Abby offered to help—”</p>
<p>“<em>You know she won’t take it. I’ve tried convincing her. She says she raised us by working three jobs and not accepting handouts, and she’ll die the same way.</em>”</p>
<p>“Right.”</p>
<p>“<em>So, really. How’s the fake dating thing going? Still pretending you’re not head over heels for Clarke?</em>” The question made Lexa’s hands shake, and she stepped further away from the house, hidden amongst the darkness of the grounds.</p>
<p>“What, do I wear a sign or something?”</p>
<p>“<em>Yep. It’s written all over your forehead. You practically scream ‘I love Clarke Griffin’ with your eyes</em>.”</p>
<p>“Shut up. Tell me about Mom.”</p>
<p>“<em>She wants an update on you. She says if you don’t get the girl she’ll be forever disappointed.</em>”</p>
<p>“She does realize that my love life is less important than her health, right?”</p>
<p>“<em>What love life?</em>” Anya asked, chuckling, and Lexa scowled, leaning against a tree.</p>
<p>“Ha. Ha. So funny.”</p>
<p>“<em>Don’t be bitter. I told you ages ago to stop moping and just tell her.</em>”</p>
<p>“You told me that before Finn. Besides, I’m not moping.”</p>
<p>“<em>What happened to Finn wasn’t your fault. And you are moping. It’s getting pathetic to watch.</em>” Lexa swallowed hard, knowing her sister couldn’t see her, knowing that there was no way for anyone to tell that she was having a mild panic attack outside in the cold, under a tree, enveloped in darkness.</p>
<p>“Anya—”</p>
<p>“<em>Lexa, stop blaming yourself.</em>”</p>
<p>“But Anya…she’s right to hate me. She’s right.”</p>
<p>“<em>You didn’t do anything</em>.” That was the problem, Lexa wanted to scream. That was exactly the problem. She didn’t do anything, she didn’t do anything when she should have (and here she is, still not doing anything, still not doing anything, still not doing anything). “<em>Just…once you accept it, things will be easier.</em>”</p>
<p>“Accept what?”</p>
<p>“<em>Accept that it wasn’t your fault, and that you deserve to be happy</em>.” Lexa took a deep breath, letting herself fall to the ground, resting her head against the tree.</p>
<p>“But what if I don’t?” she whispered, and Anya—her sister, the one who’d always been there for her, who knew her better than anyone—just let out a sigh.</p>
<p>“<em>Sometimes</em>,” she said, her tone hard and sad, “<em>I just wish you’d never met her.</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>The ground was cold</em>. “Lexa? Lexa! You out here?” <em>The ground was cold</em>. “What’re you doing out here? Lexa?”</p>
<p>“I called him a cab,” she said, not looking up, breathing hard, her heart racing, feeling as if she was falling, falling, falling, with no one to catch her, no one to help ground her.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“That night. I called him a cab. He was drunk, he kept yelling, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t be in the car with him. So I called him a cab.” Clarke said nothing for a moment then Lexa felt her drop down next to her, their shoulders pressed together, using each other to stave off the cold. Slowly, tentatively, anxiously, Clarke reached out and took Lexa’s hands in her own, warming them, heating them, gripping them, but Lexa’s heart still was beating at a ridiculous rate, her breaths still came out uneven and heavy. She still felt clammy and disorientated.</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“It was my fault.”</p>
<p>“You called him a cab.”</p>
<p>“You blame me. It was my fault. I should’ve…I should’ve done something, but I just let it happen.” Clarke pressed her lips to Lexa’s temple, shifting so that she could pull her into a one-armed embrace.</p>
<p>“You called him a cab.”</p>
<p>“You can’t. You can’t forgive me now when you couldn’t even look at me for months.”</p>
<p>“Lexa. You’re having a panic attack.” She turned, facing Clarke with wide eyes, shaking her head in immediate disagreement.</p>
<p>“Clarke, you hate me. Why are you here?”</p>
<p>“You called him a cab. Okay? I get it. I don’t hate you.”</p>
<p>“I was there, I could’ve stopped it, I could’ve prevented—”</p>
<p>“You called him a cab,” Clarke said forcefully, pressing her forehead to Lexa’s, not letting Lexa look away. “You called him a cab.”</p>
<p>“I don’t regret you. I don’t. Never.” Clarke didn’t answer, just let Lexa bury her face into Clarke’s neck, just let Lexa grip her shoulders, seeking stability, seeking comfort, seeking solid ground.</p>
<p>The embrace was innocent.</p>
<p>Their closeness was innocent.</p>
<p>Lexa could suddenly breathe again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: I actually made an outline/planned for this fic because I confused myself with the timeline constantly</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They pretended the panic attack outside never happened. (At least, Lexa pretended the panic attack and the subsequent embrace never happened. Clarke tried once or twice to get her to talk, but when it became clear that Lexa was resolute, she gave up.)</p>
<p>They pretended the panic attack outside never happened, and they were awkward around each other—even more so than normal.</p>
<p>“Are you two okay?” Abby asked after breakfast the next morning, helping Lexa with the dishes.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, yes.”</p>
<p>“You sure?”</p>
<p>“If Clarke and Lexa were a continent, they’d be the Antarctic,” Carol interjected, grinning when Lexa merely scowled.</p>
<p>“You know you can always talk to us, right Lexa?” Abby said, shifting so that she faced Lexa, totally ignoring Carol’s comment. “I know your mom must be—”</p>
<p>“It’s okay.”</p>
<p>“I know. I’m just saying, we’re here for you. Carol and me. Even Lizzie. All of us. You’re a part of this family.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Abby, the girl knows. Leave her be.” Abby nodded, not looking like she wanted to take Carol’s advice.</p>
<p>“I just…I just don’t want you to think you can’t talk to us. Even if it’s about Clarke. Especially if it’s about Clarke.”</p>
<p>“Clarke and I are fine, promise.”</p>
<p>“She’s happier with you. More like she was before. It’s good to see, that’s all,” Abby said, shrugging helplessly, ignoring the look Carol sent her. She nodded awkwardly. “I haven’t seen her happy in a while.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Lexa murmured, lowering her gaze. Carol stepped up and placed a comforting hand on Lexa’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“Come on, Abby. Don’t you have better things to do?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. With a weak grin, Abby put down the dishrag in her hand and took several steps back.</p>
<p>“Right. I just. I just wanted to say it, make sure you knew how grateful I am for you.” She smiled, and Lexa felt guilt twisting in her belly, in her chest, the searing pain of it nearly taking her breath away (was there anything anymore that she <em>didn’t</em>feel guilty for, she wondered. She honestly didn’t think so).</p>
<p>“Dr. Griffin—”</p>
<p>“It’s Abby, Lexa. And I know, I know. I’ll stop being sappy. I just.” She grinned wider, stepping forward and enveloping Lexa in a tight hug. “You’re the best thing that happened to this family in a long time.” She kissed Lexa’s cheek and left the kitchen, making odd sniffling noises, as if she was holding back tears. After a moment, Carol punched Lexa lightly on the shoulder.</p>
<p>“She’ll be heartbroken if she finds out.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“Am I a terrible person for wanting to see it?” Lexa turned to the older woman, nodding immediately. Carol sighed. “Fine. Fine. Guess the game is still on.”   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where are you going?”</p>
<p>“I have things to do.”</p>
<p>“It’s Christmas break. What do you have to do?”</p>
<p>“Why are you so nosy, Clarke?”</p>
<p>“Why are you being so secretive?”</p>
<p>“If I recall, the only reason I’m here is because you want to keep your secrets.”</p>
<p>“That’s not the same. I asked for your help. I let you in.”</p>
<p>“I don’t need your help. I’ll only be gone for a few hours.”</p>
<p>“You can’t leave me alone with Aunt Liz and my mom.”</p>
<p>“Ah, so your true motives come out.”</p>
<p>“Lexa. I’m begging.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin is here.”</p>
<p>“Don’t get me started on her. She won’t let up on the whole—just please. Let me come too.”</p>
<p>“Clarke—”</p>
<p>“It’d be suspicious if you go out without me. Don’t forget, the entire reason you’re here is to convince my mom we’re dating.”</p>
<p>“Clarke—”</p>
<p>“Please,<em>please</em>, don’t leave me here with them. I just can’t take the questions, the not-so-subtle comments my grandma keeps making, I just can’t.”</p>
<p>“Clarke. Go get your bag.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, and if you’d let me finish, we could’ve already been gone by now.”</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t be so snarky. No girlfriend of mine would be so snarky.”</p>
<p>“I’ve always been snarky. Snarky is basically ninety percent of my personality.”</p>
<p>“That’s true.”</p>
<p>“So? Are you coming or not?”</p>
<p>“What? Oh. Yeah. I got…distracted.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“It’s just, well, I haven’t seen that in a while, that half grin thing you do. I’ve missed it.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“So are we going?”</p>
<p>“What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”</p>
<p>“Flustered, Lexa?”</p>
<p>“Never.”</p>
<p>“You’re blushing.”</p>
<p>“I was just thinking that it’s a long drive. Want to get coffee first?”</p>
<p>“Y-yeah. I’d like that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They decided they could spare a half hour, and ended up finding seats in the small coffee shop, nursing their drinks while looking at everything but each other. Somehow, however, it wasn’t awkward at all.</p>
<p>“Remember Raven’s senior bash thing?”</p>
<p>“You mean the worst night any of us ever had?” Clarke laughed and nodded, sipping at her drink before turning to face Lexa with a grin.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t that bad,” she commented lightly, her grin widening when Lexa scoffed.</p>
<p>“No one showed up. It was just the five of us, sitting around getting drunk.”</p>
<p>“No, it was basically just me and you. Remember? Bellamy got bored so he went out with Murphy later on, and Octavia and Raven went with him.” Lexa chuckled, hanging her head.</p>
<p>“We were too drunk to go, yeah. Ended up watching Disney movies all night.” Clarke leaned forward, so close that Lexa could smell the coffee on her breath, could smell the faint scent of her perfume.</p>
<p>“It was a good night,” Clarke said.</p>
<p>“I don’t remember most of it.”</p>
<p>“You should’ve paced yourself. You’re a lightweight.”</p>
<p>“I’m not a lightweight,” she protested. She honestly wasn’t, but it was true that she hadn’t paced herself that night. Being alone with Clarke, being alone with a <em>drunk</em>Clarke—being alone with a Clarke that kept saying that she loved her, that there was no one for her but Lexa—had turned her into a ball of anxiety, unable to do anything but drink. Suddenly, they were both drunk, suddenly, dealing with Clarke became easy.</p>
<p>“You are.”</p>
<p>“<em>You</em>barely remember that night.”</p>
<p>“On the contrary, I remember <em>everything</em>about that night.”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yep.” She smiled, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, giving Lexa a satisfied look. “You said some things, you know.”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Want to elaborate?”</p>
<p>“You said my eyes were blue.” Lexa blushed, but didn’t break eye contact.</p>
<p>“Obviously.”</p>
<p>“You said they were the most beautiful blue you’d ever seen.” She swallowed, still refusing to look away.</p>
<p>“Still obvious.” It was Clarke’s turn to blush, but she didn’t turn away either.</p>
<p>“I told you I’d wanted to kiss you the first day we met. Outside the library.” Lexa blinked, but didn’t speak, not trusting her voice. “You said you’d wanted it too.”</p>
<p>“You’re making this up.”</p>
<p>“You think so?”</p>
<p>“I know so. I make it a point not to talk about my feelings.”</p>
<p>“I’ve noticed.”</p>
<p>“What do you want from me, Clarke?” It came out more tiredly than she intended. Came out with a harshness she didn’t realize she felt. (A bitterness she’d all but stamped out, coming back with an unbelievable force.)</p>
<p>“An admission.”</p>
<p>“About?”</p>
<p>“How you feel.” It was Lexa’s turn to lean forward, though it was with anger, it was with frustration, it was with pain.</p>
<p>“I think you’re pushing it, Clarke.”</p>
<p>“You haven’t talked to me since Finn. You think I can’t tell you’re hurting?”</p>
<p>“You didn’t <em>want</em>to talk to me. In case you forgot, you <em>blamed</em>me.”</p>
<p>“I never blamed you,” she immediately denied, shaking her head vigorously.  </p>
<p>“Clarke—”</p>
<p>“I never blamed you. I never hated you. I just…couldn’t trust you.” This brought Lexa up short, rendered her incapable of speech.</p>
<p>“W-wh—”</p>
<p>“You said you’d take him home. You said you’d take care of it—”</p>
<p>“—because<em>you</em>asked me to. Because <em>you</em>said you couldn’t deal with him—”</p>
<p>“—and then I heard about what happened, and it just hit me all at once, you didn’t keep your promise. I trusted you, but you didn’t keep your promise, and something terrible happened.”</p>
<p>“I called him a cab!” The other patrons in the coffee shop looked over at them disdainfully, expressions of annoyance mirrored on all their faces. “I called him a cab,” she whispered heatedly. But Clarke was unmoved. But Clarke didn’t flinch. But Clarke was unfazed.</p>
<p>“You called him a cab, Lexa. But you didn’t make sure he got in it,” she said, laying bare all of Lexa’s sins, laying bare the truth, laying bare the guilt that she constantly struggled with.</p>
<p>(<em>You didn’t do anything</em>, Anya had said. And that was the problem. She didn’t <em>do</em>anything. She should’ve done something.) </p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They rode in icy silence, Lexa pretending that the seat next to her wasn’t occupied. They rode in icy silence, broken only when they pulled into a driveway next to a small and aging home. Paint peeled off on the back wall, the front door’s white had turned gray from dirt, and the grass out front looked like it hadn’t been cut in a while. Lexa swallowed as she looked around the home, thinking of the last time she’d been here, thinking of how it’d been far too long.  </p>
<p>Thinking of how she’d broken yet another promise.</p>
<p>“Where are we?” Clarke asked, breaking their silence. Lexa didn’t answer, instead went up the steps leading to the front porch, the wood creaking and protesting beneath her weight. She knocked on the door softly, and like clockwork, two seconds later she could hear yelling from inside the house.</p>
<p>“Art, I swear if you keep running! No! No! You don’t open the door, Lincoln!”</p>
<p>“But it’s her! I can see her!” the young boys cried in unison, the door swinging open at that moment, revealing their faces. “Lexa!”</p>
<p>“Hi Artemis. Hi Lincoln.” They grinned, and rushed forward, hugging her around the waist. “I’ve missed you two, too,” she said, placing a hand on their heads, laughing when the woman who’d been yelling stepped into view, her hands on her hips, a sigh on her lips. “I should’ve called,” Lexa said when she met the woman’s dark eyes, grinning when she just rolled them and pulled Lincoln and Artemis out of her embrace.</p>
<p>“You never call, Lexa. That’s not the problem.” She groaned when the two boys fought to reach Lexa again. “The problem is that my nephews seem to love you more.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure that’s not true, Indra.”</p>
<p>“You bring them gifts and candy. I make them do homework. I think we have a clear winner.” She leaned down, whispered something to the two boys, and they immediately nodded, running off into the house and out of sight. “So, who’s your friend?”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Lexa turned to Clarke in surprise, only just remembering she had come with her. “This is Clarke.”</p>
<p>“Clarke?<em>Clarke?</em>” Indra grinned, stepping forward and holding out a hand. “You’re the ex-girlfriend,” she said, and Lexa suddenly wondered if this was a terrible idea. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry. I don’t know anything about you.”</p>
<p>“I’m Indra Greene, I—”</p>
<p>“Oh my god. You’re his family, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>“Adoptive sister.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god.” She turned to Lexa in shock, turned to her with tears in her eyes. “You come here? And you never told me?”</p>
<p>“It had nothing to do with you.”</p>
<p>“Lexa—”</p>
<p>“How about the two of you come inside?” Indra interrupted, smiling slightly. “The boys want to show you their art projects anyway, Lexa. Artemis called you his muse.” They followed her into the house and down the hall. Colorful rugs covered the floor, toys were scattered everywhere, and Indra shrugged, leading them towards the kitchen, where she poured them two glasses of iced tea. “Sorry for the mess. I’m still not used to picking up after two pre-teen boys.”</p>
<p>“They seem happier.”</p>
<p>“They ask about Gustus less. I think your visits help.” Clarke, whose eyes were wide, unable to look away from the photos on the wall, now turned to look at Lexa in complete shock.</p>
<p>“How long—”</p>
<p>“Basically since it happened,” Indra answered for Lexa, giving Clarke an indecipherable look. “She came to the funeral. Met the boys. Told me that it was her fault, and that she wanted to make it up, even if that was impossible.”</p>
<p>“Indra—”</p>
<p>“What? You’ve told me all about Clarke, but nothing about us to her? I feel a tiny bit offended.”</p>
<p>“You know why I couldn’t tell her.”</p>
<p>“I do.” They both turned to Clarke, but she was silent, hanging her head, not looking at either of them. “So how has school been?”</p>
<p>“Barely bearable. I’m sorry about the paint and the grass. I meant to take care of it. And I will.”</p>
<p>“Lexa—”</p>
<p>“I just wanted to ask if you needed help with Christmas. And I know Lincoln’s birthday is only a few days after that. If you—”</p>
<p>“Lexa—”</p>
<p>“I know it can’t be easy to—”</p>
<p>“You keep your money, child. Save it for your mom. Or for school.”</p>
<p>“My mom won’t take it. And I’m good with school. Please, let me help.” Indra stared at her for a moment, then let out a sigh of defeat.</p>
<p>“I took care of the Christmas gifts already. But if you want—”</p>
<p>“Something for Lincoln’s birthday, then? Okay.”</p>
<p>“Lexa, I don’t expect anything from you.” She smiled, her eyes flickering over to Clarke for a moment before focusing once more on Lexa. “I know you feel duty bound or honor bound to help, but you have to know I expect nothing. Clarke. Tell her. It wasn’t her fault.” Clarke looked up then, her eyes red-rimmed, like she was only seconds away from crying.</p>
<p>“Lexa doesn’t listen to reason.”</p>
<p>“So it’s not just with me, then?” Indra joked, though they all could only manage weak chuckles. “So how are you, Clarke? I hear you’re in medical school.”</p>
<p>“Yes. It’s busy.”</p>
<p>“I can imagine.” She smiled awkwardly. “My other brother, Nyko, he’s a doctor. Terrible hours.”</p>
<p>“I—”</p>
<p>“Do the two of you want to stay for dinner?” Indra interrupted, looking away from Clarke and focusing on Lexa. “I made chicken.”</p>
<p>“No. No, we’re expected back home.” Indra smiled, unsurprised by the immediate refusal (it was, after all, the same refusal Lexa gave every time she came by, unable to spend more than an hour in the woman’s company, the guilt and pain quickly becoming unbearable). And after Lincoln and Artemis gave her their artwork, both of them going on about how much they loved the paints and materials she got for them last time she came, after promising she’d be back soon, Lexa led Clarke back out of the house and towards the car. They stopped when Indra tapped Lexa on the shoulder and pulled her into a hug.</p>
<p>“It’s all right, you know,” she said softly as she pulled away. Lexa managed a weak smile and got into the car, watching as Indra whispered something else to Clarke.</p>
<p>"What did she whisper to you?" Lexa found herself asking as Clarke slid into her seat, a vacant expression on her face. She turned slowly, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.</p>
<p>"She doesn't blame me, either."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Are you okay?" Lexa looked up from her book, shocked to see Carol standing over her with a cup of tea in her hand. Without a word, she held it out to Lexa who took it gratefully.</p>
<p>"Shouldn't you be asleep?"</p>
<p>"Shouldn't you?"</p>
<p>"I don't think Clarke wants me up there tonight."</p>
<p>"Don't want to sleep on the ground again?"</p>
<p>"Knew about that, did you?" she grimaced, taking a sip of the tea, smiling slightly when the older woman settled down next to her on the couch. Her pajamas hung loosely on her, as if she'd lost a lot of weight in a short time, and for the first time, Lexa wondered if the loss of her husband took a greater toll on her than she let anyone see. Clarke was like her in that regard, Lexa realized. Dutifully shouldering and bearing all their pain without a wince, without an indication of just how much they buckled beneath the burden.</p>
<p>"You rubbed your neck all day. Reminded me of James, after I fought with him."</p>
<p>"Mrs. Griffin—"</p>
<p>"He'd make me tea after a fight. And next to the cup, he'd have a note, apologizing, telling me he didn't mean it, calling me an old coot that he loved anyway. And I'd drink the tea and forgive him."</p>
<p>"What did you do for him?"</p>
<p>"A glass of whiskey and the promise of leaving him alone for a few hours." Lexa laughed, taking another sip of the tea, feeling relaxed for the first time since the coffee shop. "What did the two of you fight about?"</p>
<p>"I visit the Greenes. As often as I can. She was upset that I didn't tell her." Carol nodded, looking thoughtful. After a second, she sighed.</p>
<p>"The family of the man—"</p>
<p>"Right." A long silence followed, with Lexa occasionally sipping at her tea and Carol staring off into space. "Is it supposed to hurt?" Lexa asked, her voice coming out far softer and more vulnerable than she wanted. Carol gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.</p>
<p>"It wouldn't be love if it didn't hurt."</p>
<p>"Right."</p>
<p>"You know. I've seen Clarke angry, sad, jealous, frustrated, heartbroken—any emotion you can think of, I've seen it in Clarke's eyes. But with you...it's the first time I've seen it all together. All those emotions, focused at a single thing."</p>
<p>"Is that a good thing?"</p>
<p>"It is. Because that's what love is, right?"</p>
<p>"You think love consists of anger, jealousy, frustration?"</p>
<p>"I do. Love is when you feel everything, but only focus on the good. And Clarke, with all her anger and sadness and heartbreak, she still loves you. And you love her." Lexa nodded, but she was resolute in her decision (the decision she made on the silent ride back home, the decision she made as Clarke shouted at her, demanding why she hadn’t told her about the Greenes).</p>
<p>“I do love her. But you were right before. I thought I could do this forever. But I can’t. I can’t Mrs. Griffin.” And when Carol looked at her, there was no anger, there was no disappointment, there was only understanding, tinged with the slightest bit of sadness.</p>
<p>“I know, hon. I know.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: I wrote parts of this chapter during a physics lecture back in undergrad and I remember that because I'm weird</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, how did the two of you meet?” Elizabeth asked, leaning forward, her elbows on the table, propping her head up with her hands.</p>
<p>“It was pure chance,” Lexa said, shrugging. “Anticlimactic really.” Clarke, however, shook her head.</p>
<p>“Oh, we can tell them the real version.” Lexa, who was pretty sure she’d <em>lived</em>the real version, frowned, and motioned for Clarke to go on. “It was cold, wet, terrible sort of week. Finals couldn’t have happened at a worse time.” She grinned at Lexa, making her feel rather uncomfortable. “Lexa came into the library maybe half an hour after me?” She bit her lip, as if unsure, then plowed on. “She spread out all her books on the table, but then pulled out a novel. And she started to read.” Clarke smiled, and Lexa—who <em>lived</em>through that day—felt her heart drop. Because all this…all this was true.</p>
<p>“Clarke—”</p>
<p>“It was obvious she wasn’t studying,” Clarke continued, totally ignoring Lexa. “She kept checking her watch and looking at her textbooks nervously, like she knew she needed to study but the novel was too good to put down.” She smiled, like she was thrust back in time, like she was in the library on a cold, wet day, tired from finals, fueled only by protein bars and caffeine. “I watched her, for hours. For some reason…I just couldn’t look away, I wanted to see what would happen. And then, maybe three hours later, Lexa checked her watch, her eyes went really wide, and she began shoving her things into her bag, and she got up in a rush. Except, she forgot her novel.”</p>
<p>“What—”</p>
<p>“So I picked it up,” Clarke continued, still ignoring Lexa completely, “and I ran out, all these things I would say in my head, you know? I had lines and everything. But when I rammed into her, and she looked at me…” She swallowed hard, turning to look at Lexa briefly. “I don’t know. I froze. I couldn’t say anything I planned. So I gave her the book back without her noticing, said something stupid about sleep deprivation, and that was it.”</p>
<p>(There were three truths to Clarke Griffin, Lexa knew.)</p>
<p>“Wait. So did you find her later? Slip your number in the book?” Elizabeth asked, frowning deeply. Carol, however, was clearly struggling with holding back her chuckles. Her face was red from the very effort.</p>
<p>“What? No,” Clarke said, shaking her head. “We had a class together a semester later. And Lexa came up to me, made a stupid comment about sleep deprivation, and I decided right then, that was it. She was it.”</p>
<p>(There were three truths to Clarke Griffin, Lexa knew…except, she didn’t. Except, her truths weren’t truths after all.)</p>
<p>“That is the cutest story I’ve ever heard. It almost makes me want to find someone too. You know. Almost.”</p>
<p>“It was meant to be,” Carol said, choking back laughter. “It was fate.”</p>
<p>“Mom, you don’t have to be so sarcastic.”</p>
<p>“I’m not!” she defended, holding up her hands. “These two are meant to be. And everyone knows it except them.”</p>
<p>“What?” Abby asked, but Carol went back to shaking her head, eventually forcing herself to get up and head towards the kitchen. “What was that about?”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin had too much to drink,” Lexa supplied, smiling slightly. “I’ll go check on her.” She left as well, dutifully avoiding Clarke’s eyes, following Carol into the kitchen.</p>
<p>(Three truths: Meeting Clarke was a stroke of mere luck…except, it wasn’t. It was planned, it happened on purpose.)</p>
<p>“Calling me a drunk, Lexa?”</p>
<p>“Sorry. Had to think quickly.”</p>
<p>(Three truths: Becoming her friend was an active choice…except, it wasn’t. It had been Clarke’s choice. It had been Clarke.)</p>
<p>“Go figure, though. Clarke loved you first.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin…”</p>
<p>“I’m just saying. Maybe it’s not time to give up?”</p>
<p>“You’re trying to help your granddaughter—”</p>
<p>“On the contrary, I’m trying to help <em>you</em>, bud. Clarke’s a lost cause, but you? You can be helped.”</p>
<p>“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not.”</p>
<p>(Three truths: Falling for her, falling for her was an inevitability…except, it wasn’t. Because Clarke had pushed her, Clarke had dragged her down to the depths and then had abandoned her there.)</p>
<p>“Lexa. My sweet, beautiful, naïve honorary granddaughter. There is so much you’ve yet to learn.”</p>
<p>(Three truths: They were all a lie.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Carol stuck her head out into the hallway for a moment then gave Lexa a thumbs up. Lexa merely rolled her eyes and picked up the first box she saw, ripping the tape off.</p>
<p>“The albums are at the bottom,” Carol said, still at her lookout spot.</p>
<p>“All this artwork is Clarke’s?” Lexa asked, taking out one of the drawings. Carol stepped away from the door and took the drawing from Lexa, smiling softly.</p>
<p>“Oh, I remember this. She was seven, and James was sick, so she drew him this when they visited, to ‘light him up.’” Lexa felt her heart thud in her chest, felt fondness erupt, felt something in her overflow with affection, but she stamped it all down, taking back the drawing and resuming digging through the box. “Clarke was always a cute kid.”</p>
<p>“I can imagine,” Lexa muttered.</p>
<p>“Funny, witty, she could do no wrong.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“Too bad she also breaks her best friend’s heart.”</p>
<p>“I kno—<em>hey</em>.”</p>
<p>“I got you. You’re upset ‘cause I got you.”</p>
<p>“We have a mission, Mrs. Griffin.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, to knock some sense into my granddaughter before you give up for real.”</p>
<p>“I have given up.” Carol raised her eyebrow in disbelief and Lexa groaned. “I <em>have</em>,” she reiterated. Carol merely nodded.</p>
<p>“Sure you have, hon. And pigs fly, and the sun revolves around the Earth, and there’s no such thing as evolution.”</p>
<p>“I have no idea why, but I’m getting the feeling you’re being sarcastic.”</p>
<p>“Stop wasting time and find those albums,” Carol berated her, as if she’d been the one to digress.</p>
<p>“Why do we need them anyway?”</p>
<p>“I need to prove to Elizabeth that we all remember that terrible haircut she had about seven years ago. Can’t have my own daughter believing we’ve forgotten her ridiculous choices.”</p>
<p>“It’s good to know I’m not the only one you make fun of, Mrs. Griffin. But if you want your own albums, why are we hiding?”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding? Clarke packed this stuff up. If she saw us with it, she’d throw a fit.” Lexa pulled her hands out of the box, staring at Carol in confusion.</p>
<p>“I don’t—”</p>
<p>“It’s Jake’s,” she said with a shrug. “It’s all Jake’s.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin—”</p>
<p>“I’ve made my peace with it,” she interrupted, smiling softly at Lexa, looking far more calm and serene than she had any reason to be. “But Clarke would never have set foot here again if she didn’t hide away every last trace of him.”</p>
<p>“Because she couldn’t make peace?”</p>
<p>“Because she couldn’t take anymore pain. A concept, I think, you’re familiar with.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Carol had her baking again, except this time, she was totally on her own.</p>
<p>The baking gave her a sense of calm that nothing else had ever given. She realized, belatedly, that the pain of loss—of heartbreak—never hit you at once, that it came in stages, slowly chipping away at your heart. Then, there was a moment—when the chipping had taken its toll—that the heart just shattered, broke, fell apart. And again and again, you needed to put yourself back together.</p>
<p>This was what she learned by spending time with Carol: You were never the same after a loss. Pieces of you were lost, unusable, and suddenly, you were different—harder, stronger, crippled—and when you put yourself back together, it couldn’t be in the same way.</p>
<p>This was what she learned from Carol: You had to learn how to cope. Cope with loss, with the chipping at your heart, with the pain and the change. You learned to cope—an active process, forcing yourself through the motions each day—until it became muscle memory, like baking a cake, driving a car, riding a bike, pretending you weren’t in love with your best friend.</p>
<p>This is what she learned, what she discovered to be a truth, replacing the three she had before: She had coped for so long that she didn’t know how to stop.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think I should be worried about the time you spend with my grandmother,” Clarke said as she sat down on the couch, their thighs brushing.</p>
<p>“Sorry?”</p>
<p>“She just told me I’m an idiot and that she likes you better. What did I do this time?”</p>
<p>“You supported your aunt in the ‘hair spectacle of 2008.’”</p>
<p>“That was seven years ago.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin has a good memory.”</p>
<p>“Has she told you you’re her honorary granddaughter?”</p>
<p>“She has.”</p>
<p>“I’m jealous.” Lexa grinned, looking at Clarke with a faux apologetic expression.</p>
<p>“You should be.” Clarke groaned, leaning her head back, and it took all of Lexa’s self-control to not stare at Clarke’s neck, to not imagine kissing her in the hollow of her throat. She swallowed hard and turned her head away.</p>
<p>“Bringing you was the best decision I made. Everyone loves you. I think my grandmother is close to adopting you.”</p>
<p>“I’m amazing, who wouldn’t want me?” It was rhetorical—it was clearly rhetorical—but Clarke grabbed her hand and forced Lexa to turn and look at her.</p>
<p>“That is a very good point,” she muttered, her eyes flicking form Lexa’s eyes to her lips.</p>
<p>“Clarke? Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I just had a few glasses of wine with Aunt Liz.”</p>
<p>“So you’re drunk.”</p>
<p>“Tipsy. Maybe. I’m definitely not drunk.”</p>
<p>“Clarke?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“You’re staring at me funny.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t lying. Before. When I saw you in the library, when I ran into you on purpose, I knew you were it for me.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“So why am I pretending to be your girlfriend, Clarke?”</p>
<p>“Because I’m not brave enough to admit this when I’m sober.”</p>
<p>“Admit what?” Clarke shook her head, looking away, pulling her hand out of Lexa’s. “Clarke? Admit what?” But Clarke didn’t answer—she was fast asleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The cake turned out well.</p>
<p>Abby had tactfully declined a taste, Elizabeth had raised an eyebrow and claimed she was going out, and Clarke was still sleeping off the alcohol (forcing Carol to make a comment about how the sturdy Griffin liver had skipped a generation). This left Carol and Lexa to eat the cake on their own, watching terrible television as they drank their milk and ate.</p>
<p>They were on their third slice when Carol turned away from the TV and grinned at Lexa.</p>
<p>“So. I saw you and Clarke earlier.”  </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“You were cuddling.”</p>
<p>“She literally had passed out on my shoulder.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but you two looked comfortable.”</p>
<p>“One of us had passed out. It wasn’t voluntary.”</p>
<p>“Lexa. Admit it. Admit it was nice.”</p>
<p>“Admit my cake is good.”</p>
<p>“Never.”</p>
<p>“Then I can’t admit anything either.” Carol groaned, taking a large bite of her slice and a swig of milk before letting out a sigh.</p>
<p>“Fine,” she said, as if the single word caused her great pain. “The cake is good. I’ve taught you well.”</p>
<p>“That’s giving yourself a pat on the back. I mean, a real compliment. Come on, Mrs. Griffin. My cake turned out well.”</p>
<p>“It has too much cinnamon. But yes, otherwise it did turn out well.”</p>
<p>“Wow, that was actually close to be a sincere compliment.”</p>
<p>“Oh no, it’s your turn. Tell me what happened.”</p>
<p>“She sat down next to me, said she meant what she said to Elizabeth, and then passed out before I could get her to explain more.” Carol’s eyes narrowed.</p>
<p>“And how does that make you feel?”</p>
<p>“If you want me to say that it’s ‘meant to be’ or some nonsense like that—”</p>
<p>“It’s not nonsense. Come on, Lexa, it’s a sign! Take it as one.” Lexa finished the last of her cake, drained the rest of her milk, and stood up.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to take anymore pain, Mrs. Griffin.” Carol smiled sadly, shrugging.</p>
<p>“Well, then it comes down to this, Lexa: you can hide every last trace of your feelings, or you can make peace with it.”</p>
<p>“I have made peace with it, Mrs. Griffin. You’re just not happy that it’s not the way you wanted.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: this fic originally wasn't going to have carol play a big role but shit happens</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Lexa kissed Clarke was after Christmas their senior year, and it was on a dare.</p>
<p>“What I’m saying is that you dating Bellamy is just as unlikely and weird as Clarke and Lexa getting together,” Octavia said, throwing a fry at Raven with a roll of her eyes. “It just isn’t happening.”</p>
<p>“You think I wouldn’t get together with Lexa?” Clarke asked, raising her eyebrows, the movie they’d put on earlier all but forgotten. Raven was grinning shamelessly, winking at Lexa (much later, it would occur to Lexa that that was because Raven <em>knew</em>, Raven knew before even she did) and goading Clarke along.</p>
<p>“Octavia has a point about you and Lexa,” she offered, shrugging.</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“You two are like…I dunno. I can’t even imagine you kissing, let alone <em>dating</em>,” Octavia said, and perhaps if Lexa had been less drunk that night, paid more attention to Clarke’s friends and less to the movie, she would have noticed the glint in Octavia’s eye (much later, it would occur to her that Octavia <em>knew</em>, knew before even Lexa did).</p>
<p>“Like what?” Clarke asked, looking supremely offended. “Lexa, don’t you have something to say?”</p>
<p>“Does it really matter?” Lexa asked (<em>it does, it does, it does</em>). “Raven just wants to rile you up.”</p>
<p>“Fine, Clarke. You want to prove me wrong? Kiss her.”</p>
<p>“What? I’m not doing that just to prove you wrong.”</p>
<p>“Come on. I dare you.” This, of course, spurred Lexa on. Lexa, who never backed down from a challenge, Lexa, who had had dreams, who was starting to see Clarke a little differently, whose drunken mind thought it would be harmless fun.</p>
<p>Before Clarke could say another word, Lexa pulled her down and kissed her, tasting the beer and fries on her lips, wondering if it was normal to have her head spin as much as it suddenly was. Wondering if it was normal to kiss your best friend and think, <em>I’m home. </em></p>
<p>(When she released Clarke, there was a dazed expression on the blonde’s face. When she released Clarke, Raven and Octavia looked practically gleeful.)</p>
<p>(Many months later, Raven told her that she’d been rooting for Lexa from the start, that Finn was just Clarke’s version of denial. <em>It’ll pass</em>, she said. <em>Clarke’ll see</em>, she assured her. She was wrong.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Octavia and Raven hadn’t changed much since college.</p>
<p>Raven had gone on to graduate school, studying something beyond Lexa’s capacity to understand, hoping one day to work for NASA. Octavia, on the other hand, had gotten a job straight out of college, working at a newspaper, claiming that the pen was mightier than the sword and that she’d bring about change.</p>
<p>Both still looked at Lexa with that gleam in their eyes. Both still seemed sure that ‘Clarke’ll see.’</p>
<p>“How’s it been?” Raven asked sympathetically, frowning a little. She’d driven out a long way, and though they’d all assured her she didn’t need to come, she’d acted offended and claimed she’d <em>never</em>break tradition (the fact that Clarke did just last year, the fact that Clarke had been breaking all their traditions lately, went unsaid). Lexa smiled as best she could, her eyes on Clarke and Octavia, who were chatting with Carol in the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Tough,” she admitted.</p>
<p>“I can imagine. Have you guys talked about Finn?”</p>
<p>“Not really. She knows I see the Greenes though.”</p>
<p>“You should never have kept that a secret from her in the first place. There was no reason to.”</p>
<p>“She wasn’t talking to me, how was I supposed to tell her anything?” Raven rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>“Don’t pull that shit with me,” she said, punching Lexa lightly on the shoulder. “If you wanted to tell her, you could’ve.”</p>
<p>“She says she doesn’t trust me.”</p>
<p>“Give her time.”</p>
<p>“You’ve said that before.”</p>
<p>“And I’ll keep saying it till something changes. Lexa. She’ll see.” Lexa stared at Raven, this girl who became her friend because Clarke became her friend, this girl who supported Lexa from the day they met—who ‘rooted’ for her—who chose to side with Clarke after Finn, who left Lexa alone when she needed someone the most. Lexa stared at her and shook her head.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter.”</p>
<p>“You’re angry with me?”</p>
<p>“You, Octavia, Bellamy…yeah, I’m angry.”</p>
<p>“Clarke forced us to choose.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“I’ll make it up to you. Somehow, someday. I’ve always rooted for you, you know that, right?” Lexa smiled slightly, looking away from this girl, this girl who was her friend, who was the first she told about her mother, who had held her tightly after that night—after the night with Finn, a drunk, violent Finn—and told her it wasn’t her fault, wasn’t her fault, wasn’t her fault.</p>
<p>“I do,” she nodded, but she didn’t meet Raven’s eyes, and they lapsed into an awkward silence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is by far the best steak I’ve ever had, Mrs. Griffin,” Octavia said, a faint furrow to her brow as she attempted to cut the tough meat.</p>
<p>“Lexa made it,” Carol muttered, shaking her head.</p>
<p>“Oh. Well, in that case, what the hell, Lexa, it’s like rubber.”</p>
<p>“She’s lying, Octavia,” Clarke sighed, giving her grandmother a look. Carol, however, just turned to Lexa with a hurt expression, and Lexa laughed.</p>
<p>“They don’t know what they’re talking about, Mrs. Griffin. This is brilliant.”</p>
<p>“Does Lexa win points with Clarke by sucking up to Carol?” Raven asked, looking around the table. When no one answered her, she held up her hands. “Man, tough crowd.”</p>
<p>“Much like the steak,” Abby muttered, taking a large gulp of her wine.</p>
<p>“I get it, okay? No one likes my steak. It’s not my fault, James usually was in charge of the grilling.” Everyone, from Elizabeth to Raven to Abby, went silent, staring at Carol with bated breath. The silence was suffocating, stuffing up the air and clogging up the lungs—it was an asphyxiation from the unsaid sadness, the unexpressed pain, the unspoken suffering. Chests rattled with suppressed sobs as Clarke looked down, as Abby turned away, as Elizabeth hid her tears. As Carol, this woman who bore so much—who had lost the man she loved, who filled every second of her day in order to avoid such silences, such pauses, because she was a shark and she had to keep moving in order to keep breathing—turned to Lexa with a faint smile. “Pass the potatoes, hon?”</p>
<p>“Of course, Mrs. Griffin,” Lexa said softly. “Did Clarke ever tell you about the time we got locked out of our apartment and had to scale the side of the building in order to get in?”</p>
<p>“Lexa, I—” Abby began, looking at Carol sympathetically, clearly about to lecture Lexa on tact. But then, to the surprise of everyone but Lexa, Carol laughed, her expression from before clearing somewhat.</p>
<p>“No, she didn’t. How did you get locked out?” Lexa ignored the way Elizabeth still couldn’t look up, the way Abby stared at her, the way Clarke’s mouth was hanging slightly open from shock, the way Raven and Octavia had gone back to fighting with their steaks. Lexa ignored everyone and focused only on Carol. (<em>Keep moving forward…keep breathing. Keep the lungs expanding.</em>)</p>
<p>“Raven and Octavia’s idea of a prank. Our neighbors called the cops on us. I have to say, it was the longest night of my life…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was nice, what you did.” Lexa blinked, turning to look at Octavia in surprise.</p>
<p>“What was?”</p>
<p>“During dinner. You were the only one who knew how to handle Mrs. Griffin. I think the rest of us would’ve gone the ‘handle with care’ route.” Lexa crossed her arms, leaned against the doorway, unsure if she wanted to speak to Octavia further. If Raven had been forced to side with Clarke, Octavia had willingly gone along with it. But before Lexa could decide, Octavia made the decision for her, looking around the hallway to ensure it was empty before leaning forward a little. “I’m sorry,” she said, and in her defense, she certainlylooked sorry.</p>
<p>“Man, two apologies in one day. I don’t know what I’ll do.”</p>
<p>“Lexa. I’m serious. I didn’t even know what had happened. I just knew that you were supposed to take Finn home and it didn’t happen. I blamed you.”</p>
<p>“You and everyone else.”</p>
<p>“You blame yourself, too,” Octavia said softly. “You blame yourself for everything.”</p>
<p>“Octavia—”</p>
<p>“She needs you, Lexa. She needs you.”</p>
<p>“She’s in the bathroom, Octavia, I can’t—”</p>
<p>“She needs you,” Octavia reiterated, her voice growing louder and harsher. Lexa nodded quickly.</p>
<p>“That’s why I’m here,” she said, attempting to placate Octavia’s panic.  </p>
<p>“No, I mean, these past few months, she just…she’s been lost. And you’re the only one who knows how to handle her. Just like Mrs. Griffin.”</p>
<p>“I’m here for her.”</p>
<p>“She’s too stubborn to apologize to you. So I’ll do it for her. Please, Lexa. Please, forgive her.”  </p>
<p>“There’s nothing to forgive.” Octavia snorted softly, shaking her head in amusement.</p>
<p>“You and I both know that’s not true.” Her look was significant, her eyebrows raised, her lips pressed in a thin line. But Lexa was unmoved, unbothered, unfazed.</p>
<p>“There’s nothing to forgive,” she repeated.</p>
<p>“Don’t do that. Please, Lexa. She needs you.” Lexa swallowed and she leaned forward as well, so that her face was merely an inch away from Octavia’s. Anger erupted within her, a fury she didn’t know she could possess, igniting the frozen parts of her soul—the parts that had broken off and withered away long ago. The anger was harsh, unforgiving, cruel, but it was alive, it was flourishing, and it was better than nothing at all.</p>
<p>“She didn’t need me after it happened,” she hissed, uncrossing her arms and poking Octavia hard in the sternum. “She didn’t need me in the weeks that followed. She didn’t need me until she was forced to need me.”</p>
<p>“You need her,” Octavia said stubbornly. “You do.”</p>
<p>“I bear the guilt on my own. I dealt with it on my own. I’m just fine.”</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“I don’t need anyone. Not you, not Raven, and certainly not Clarke. Don’t you get it, Octavia? It’s all a lie. All of it.” For a second it looked like Octavia would protest but then she nodded, taking a step back and hanging her head.</p>
<p>“It’s hard,” she said softly. “It’s hard to live with yourself after you abandon someone.” But Lexa was unmoved, unbothered, unfazed.</p>
<p>“It’s harder to be the one abandoned.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The closest she ever came to admitting her feelings was the night of graduation, and the two of them were alone.</p>
<p>They hadn’t been drinking. They’d decided against it. They didn’t even want to go out like Raven, Octavia, and the others. Instead, they ordered Chinese, sprawled out on opposite ends of the couch, talking, their legs bumping together, eating, laughing.</p>
<p>Lexa remembered everything with distinct clarity. Clarke was wearing an old paint-stained t-shirt, a pair of sweats, bright pink socks, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She was terrible with chopsticks, her chunks of peppered beef continually falling back into the container. Lexa remembered it all with distinct clarity: if she hadn’t already been in love with her best friend, that night alone would have pushed her off the ledge.</p>
<p>Clarke was beautiful, funny, charming, clumsy, ridiculous, smart, stubborn, strong, kind, unwilling to see reason.</p>
<p>Clarke was Clarke.</p>
<p>(Lexa loved Clarke).</p>
<p>There was a moment, a brief and fleeting moment, where the urge to speak up—to open her mouth and let the words flow as they willed—nearly overpowered all reason and logic. The closest she came to admitting her feelings was the night of graduation, and Clarke was Clarke, and Lexa opened her mouth to just say it. To get the obtrusive, substantial, crushing weight off her chest once and for all. What came out, instead, was this:</p>
<p>“Never change.” Clarke had merely smiled, stabbed the beef with one of the chopsticks and showed Lexa her makeshift skewer with a grin before continuing to eat. <em>I love you</em>, Lexa wanted to say. <em>I love you. </em>But her lungs no longer cooperated, she was left breathless, her very alveoli unable to exchange oxygen and carbon dioxide, pumped to the brim with unsaid words, unexpressed feelings, unspoken emotions.</p>
<p><em>I love you</em>, she wanted to say. But the moment was gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When the others get here, you can’t sleep on the couch,” Carol said, and Lexa opened her eyes, noticing the older woman standing over her, hands on hips.</p>
<p>“That’s not till tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“You’re lucky Abby is a heavy sleeper and that Lizzie has had so much alcohol the past few days. Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t evaporated.”</p>
<p>“You’re way too mean to her.”</p>
<p>“I’m honest.”</p>
<p>“Same thing, really.”</p>
<p>“Lexa. Why are you down here?”</p>
<p>“It’s too cold on the floor.”</p>
<p>“Why are you sleeping on the floor? Another fight?” Lexa blinked, sat up, waiting until Carol settled at the other end of the couch, her legs stretched out and propped up on the coffee table. “Well?”</p>
<p>“We’re in a fight.”</p>
<p>“Okay…”</p>
<p>“But Clarke doesn’t know it.”</p>
<p>“So…you’re in a fight<em>.</em>”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“Why are you in a fight?”</p>
<p>“I’m angry.” Lexa swallowed. “I’m angry at her. Frustrated, incensed, heartbroken, and just…angry.” Rather than look surprised or disappointed at the confession, Carol grinned widely.</p>
<p>“Finally,” she said, laughing. “You’re showing backbone! Good for you!”</p>
<p>“Aren’t you supposed to say that I should forgive her? Let it go?” Carol snorted.</p>
<p>“No, of course not, that’s stupid. My granddaughter hurt you terribly. You have every right to be angry.”</p>
<p>“My sister says she wishes I never met Clarke.” At this, Carol’s expression changed. It became guarded, hesitant, shielded.</p>
<p>“What do you think?”</p>
<p>“I think…I’m better off for knowing her. But it just—”</p>
<p>“Hurts.”</p>
<p>“Right.”</p>
<p>“This isn’t something I can answer for you, Lexa,” Carol said, reaching over to pat her on the shoulder. “But don’t forget what I told you. About moving on.”</p>
<p>“I haven’t forgotten.”</p>
<p>“You’re always welcome in my home, hon,” Carol said, looking away. “Even if you and Clarke don’t work out. Even if you two never speak again. You still have a place in my home.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Griffin.” Carol nodded, clapped her hands together, and got to her feet. She paused briefly as she walked past Lexa, making Lexa think she wanted to say something else, but instead, she merely leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of Lexa’s head.</p>
<p>After she was gone, Lexa settled back into the couch, trying hard to stem her tears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first time she hated Clarke Griffin was the first week of September, and Finn hadn’t gotten into the cab she’d called for him.</p>
<p>She was not the first to hear of what happened after she left him at the bar, drunk and alone.</p>
<p>She was, however, the first to thrust the blame on her own shoulders.</p>
<p>
  <em>(The keys, how could you forget to take his keys?)</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>(You were supposed to take him home! Home!)</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>(Why didn’t you stay, watch as he got into the cab? Why didn’t you do anything? Why did you let this happen?)  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>(Why, why, why, why, why?) </em>
</p>
<p>She hated Clarke Griffin for a wild moment, a frenzied hour, a panicked week. She hated Clarke Griffin because it was easy to force to her to shoulder some of the blame, even if it was in Lexa’s own mind. But Clarke wasn’t interested in sharing blame, pain, or guilt.</p>
<p>She hated Clarke Griffin when she called Lexa a murderer. When she cut off all ties. When Lexa was left alone to bear it all, left crumbling beneath the weight of her own sins.</p>
<p>She hated Clarke, but nothing, nothing, nothing, could ever surpass the hate she felt for herself.</p>
<p>
  <em>(Why, why, why, why, why?)</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Anya’s phone call quickly became depressing, despite the falsely cheery mood she kept trying to force in.</p>
<p>“How is she?”</p>
<p>“<em>The same.</em>”</p>
<p>“Does she need anything?”</p>
<p>“<em>Good news from your side, I think. How’s Clarke?</em>”</p>
<p>“Fine.”</p>
<p>“<em>Mom says to tell her hello. And that she fully expects the two of you to work things out.</em>”</p>
<p>“Tell Mom to focus on her health.”</p>
<p>“<em>She says she can’t be healthy until you’re happy.</em>”</p>
<p>“Anya—”</p>
<p>“<em>I’m relaying a message. You know how I feel.</em>”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“<em>If she makes you happy, little sister, just tell her</em>.”</p>
<p>“Right.”</p>
<p>“<em>Well, if you’re going to just respond with one word, I think this conversation is at an end.” </em></p>
<p>“How is she, really?”  </p>
<p>“<em>Holding on.</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clarke was staring at her.</p>
<p>It wasn’t just a feeling or a sense. Lexa knew, for a fact, that Clarke was staring at her—staring quite avidly, too. She knew because Carol kept making little gestures, knew because Raven and Octavia were trying to hide their laughs, knew because Abby looked lost and confused.</p>
<p>“Want to go on a walk, Lexa?” Clarke suddenly asked. Lexa looked up from her book, pretending that she hadn’t known about the staring, pretending that the sudden offer was a surprise.</p>
<p>“Yeah, sure. Of course.” She got to her feet, ignoring Carol’s thumbs up from behind Elizabeth, and followed Clarke outside, the chilly weather stealing the air form her lungs, forcing her to let out a small gasp. “What’s up, Clarke?” she asked as they passed the first large oak tree, the tree Lexa had her panic attack under, the tree that witnessed her weakness, her breakdown—the only living thing other than Clarke to see such a thing.</p>
<p>“Since meeting Indra, I’ve been thinking.”</p>
<p>“Thinking is never a good thing.”</p>
<p>“I thought I was angry that you didn’t tell me about her,” Clarke continued, ignoring Lexa’s interjection. “But I wasn’t.”</p>
<p>“Yes, because anger is so easy to mistake for other emotions.”</p>
<p>“I felt guilty,” she muttered, still ignoring Lexa, coming to a stop at the bench—the bench they sat at to iron out the details of this two week deal, the bench where Clarke made sure Lexa still remembered the code word, the safe word, the word she chose that Lexa could say at any moment and end it all. “I felt guilty because it was my fault and I’d done nothing to help at all.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t your fault.”</p>
<p>“I knew him. Better than any of you. I knew how he got when he drank. It wasn’t fair to expect you to take care of him. To take him home. Especially with how he felt about you.”</p>
<p>“Clarke—”</p>
<p>“I convinced myself for the longest time that it was your fault. You could’ve stopped it. You could’ve prevented it. But the thing is, his blood, that man’s blood, it’s on my hands.”</p>
<p>“Clarke, no.”</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“You don’t understand. I had months to think about this. Yeah, sure. You may have known better, and I may have known better, but at the end of the day, it was his choice. He chose to drive, he chose. His actions are on him and him alone.”</p>
<p>“We should’ve known better.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Those two kids still won’t have a dad.”</p>
<p>“Come with me, on Lincoln’s birthday. Help me with them.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Clarke muttered, leaning into Lexa’s side, one arm wrapped around her waist. “God, Lexa. I’m so very sorry.” Lexa held her, shouldered her, bore her, kept her upright. She held Clarke and allowed her defenses to drop, allowed herself to feel Clarke press against her, to feel the hot breath at her neck, to be comforted and comfort in return.</p>
<p>“Me too,” she whispered. And for the first time, she felt she could breathe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She apologized,” Lexa reported to Carol hours later. Carol picked up a can of beans, studied it carefully, then placed it back on the shelf.</p>
<p>“Let me guess, you forgave her.”</p>
<p>“Well, yeah.”</p>
<p>“What happened to that backbone?”</p>
<p>“You want me to stay angry?”</p>
<p>“I want you to stand up for yourself. She can’t treat you the way she’s treated you and get away with it with just an ‘I’m sorry.’” She pushed the buggy forward, ignoring the gaze of another older woman who shook her head at Carol’s raised voice. “It doesn’t work like that.”</p>
<p>“So what? I say, sorry Clarke, but your grandma said I was going too easy on you?”</p>
<p>“Well, of course not. You can’t tell her I’m on your side, she’d never talk to me again.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin—”</p>
<p>“This is the step in the right direction, Lexa. But this is the moment you play hard to get.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?”</p>
<p>“She can’t think you’ll always be there. Imagine it like this: Clarke is a child. You’re the candy. If the child is sure the candy will always be there, she’ll be careless with it. Willing to toss it around, just eat some when she wants it. If the candy isn’t always there, she becomes a little more careful. She learns to respect the candy.”</p>
<p>“Respect the candy?”</p>
<p>“Yes, respect it.”</p>
<p>“That’s the worst analogy ever.”</p>
<p>“All I’m saying,” Carol said, tossing a frozen pie in the buggy, her index finger pressed to her lips at Lexa’s look, shaking her head, “is that you have to establish that you can’t always be there unless she commits to you.”  </p>
<p>“Commits to the candy?”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>“She’s my best friend, Mrs. Griffin.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but there’s only so much even you can give, Lexa. I think we’ve established that. Make the boundaries, make her see your value. You are expensive candy.”</p>
<p>“Well thanks, Mrs. Griffin.”</p>
<p>“Don’t get too excited, hon. Rather than Smarties you’re a Hershey Kiss, okay?” She grabbed another frozen pie, looked at Lexa like she dared her to comment, then moved out of the frozen foods aisle.</p>
<p>“I thought you’d be more upset that I’ve decided not to give up quite yet.”</p>
<p>“Upset? Please. The only one who thought you’d actually given up was you.”</p>
<p>“Turn myself into expensive candy,” Lexa repeated softly, frowning. “Sounds doable enough.”</p>
<p>“And you have exactly eight days to do it, surrounded by the Griffin family.”</p>
<p>“It’ll be a piece of cake.”</p>
<p>“Considering your history with baking, let’s stick with the candy analogy, okay?”</p>
<p>“Do you think I’m being stupid? For putting so much significance on an apology?” Carol stopped in her tracks, much to the annoyance of the shopper behind them. She turned to Lexa with a frown and raised eyebrows.</p>
<p>“It’s hope. Hope is always stupid. And always worth it.”  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: I am sad today. that's not a fun fact, just a bummer. I hope you all are safe, happy, and healthy out there</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lexa couldn’t remember a time she’d said no to Clarke. But then, she also couldn’t remember a time Clarke had said no to her.</p><p>Lexa hadn’t put up any sort of fight the time Clarke asked her to camp out in front of a store in freezing weather the day after Thanksgiving, the two of the shivering and nursing cup after cup of hot chocolate as they huddled together in the wee hours of the morning.</p><p>Clarke hadn’t immediately shot her down the time Lexa asked her to drive two states over, to drop her off at what would end up being a failed internship, the two of them staying up all night, listening to the radio, singing along and getting every single lyric wrong.</p><p>Lexa hadn’t said no when Clarke asked her to edit her papers, even though it was finals and Lexa had a great deal of studying to do.</p><p>Clarke hadn’t said no when Lexa asked her to stay the night after she came down with a bad case of the flu and felt miserable, even though Clarke had a big exam the next day.</p><p>Clarke didn’t say no when Lexa drunkenly suggested they get matching tattoos (a star on the inside of their right wrists).</p><p>Clarke didn’t say no when Lexa called her in the middle of the night to complain about one of her classes.</p><p>Clarke didn’t say no when Lexa was hurt over the girl in their Economics class and needed someone to hold her.</p><p>(Lexa didn’t say no when Clarke asked her to take Finn home, didn’t say no when she asked her to pretend to be her girlfriend.)</p><p>(It was only now that Lexa wondered if perhaps Carol was right after all—that perhaps it was time to say no.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>He was big, burly, and boisterous.</p><p>John Griffin had his mother’s blue eyes, his father’s sandy hair, his brother’s cheerful disposition, and his sister’s attitude.</p><p>“So you’re the girlfriend,” he said the second he set eyes on her. His children—a boy of about eight named Peter and a girl of around fifteen named Ellie—stared dolefully at her, uninterested, unlike their father. His wife, Kate, was rubbing her temples tiredly.</p><p>“I am,” Lexa said, shaking his offered hand, tightening her grip when he tightened his.</p><p>“Jake said Clarke liked girls too. She never actually struck me as bi though. You, on the other hand, definitely give off the gay vibe,” he said with a grin as he let go, flexing his hand repeatedly.</p><p>“John. Shut up,” Elizabeth said, rolling her eyes. “He’s not trying to be rude, Lexa,” she explained, putting a hand over her brother’s mouth. “He just doesn’t have a filter. Says what he’s thinking. Obviously, we all love you.”</p><p>“Who said anything about not loving her?” John demanded, pulling away from his sister. “I just said she was gay. I’m stating a fact. Like, the sky is blue. You think by calling it blue, I’m accusing the sky of being sad? Or by calling her gay I’m accusing it of being bad?” He shook his head, giving Lexa a look, as if she was his confidant and he was telling her a secret. “Gotta say, I like you better than that other guy.”</p><p>“Thanks. I think”</p><p>“Yeah, he was a jerk. God, Dad hated him, right Lizzie?”</p><p>“I can’t talk to you,” Elizabeth muttered, shaking her head. “Now Lexa’s going to think we’re all homophobic or something.”</p><p>“Are you still on the gay thing? Dear lord, woman, give it a rest. Lexa, are you offended?”</p><p>“Not yet.” His grin widened.</p><p>“Oh yeah, I definitely like you better.” He clapped his hands together, looking around for his kids, both of whom had already escaped to sit in front of the television, Ellie leaning back on the couch with her phone in hand, texting furiously. “I’m going to go find my niece. And congratulate her.”</p><p>“And maybe have a glass, or three, of wine,” Kate muttered behind him, smiling softly at Lexa as if she was in on the joke. And considering Lexa just met her husband, she supposed she was.</p><p>She watched as they headed towards the kitchen and took a deep breath. Eight days with the Griffin family no longer seemed as easy as it had before, and half of them hadn’t even arrived yet.  </p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Carol was there to help her.</p><p>It was a good thing too; had she been on her own, she would have failed miserably, falling back on old habits. But she had Carol, staring her down, arms crossed, lips pressed in a thin line.</p><p>“No.” Clarke blinked, staring at Lexa for a moment before turning and staring at her grandmother.</p><p>“Why are you grinning?” she asked, still looking at her grandmother. Carol shrugged.</p><p>“The girl has backbone.”</p><p>“I just asked if we could share her slice of cake.” Lexa felt a surge of guilt, made to push her plate over, but Carol shook her head, giving her a quelling look.</p><p>“She doesn’t want to share, Clarke.”</p><p>“That’s not the problem,” Clarke said, frowning and turning back to Lexa. “I just don’t understand why you two are acting so weird.”</p><p>“It doesn’t bother you that she said no?” Carol asked innocently. It was anything but innocent; her eyes held a mischievous gleam.</p><p>“She’s at perfect liberty to say no, Grandma. I just don’t get why you seem to think it’s such a big deal. What’s going on with you two?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Lexa said, the same time Carol shrugged and exclaimed:</p><p>“Respect the candy!”</p><p>“Respect the what?’ Clarke looked between them, her frown turning into a look of worry, but when it became clear that no answer was forthcoming, she threw up her hands. “You know, whatever you two are doing, I don’t want to be involved.”</p><p>“Respect the candy!” Carol shouted after her as Clarke walked away, shaking her head the entire time. “Do you think she got the message?” she asked Lexa. Lexa merely pushed her slice of cake away.</p><p>“I suddenly don’t have an appetite.”</p><p>“No one said it would be easy, hon.” Lexa looked up at Carol, unable to help the pleading expression she knew was on her face.</p><p>“Hurting her won’t wash away my pain, Mrs. Griffin. And she’s hurt. Hurting.” Concern flitted over Carol’s face as she considered Lexa’s words but she shook her head after a moment.</p><p>“It’s just a slice of cake.”</p><p>“The cake wasn’t what hurt her, Mrs. Griffin. And you know it.” She swallowed, stood, and shook her head. “I think…I think I do need to stand up for myself. But you can’t help me. You can’t side with me.” Carol blinked, mimicking Clarke’s reaction from earlier, before her eyes narrowed.</p><p>“You’re missing the point, Lexa.”</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin—”</p><p>“No. You listen to me. The two of you are blindfolded idiots, fumbling around in the dark, desperately searching for the goddamn exit, when all you need to do is grow the hell up and call out to each other.” She picked up the plate and held it out for Lexa, a hard set to her shoulders, a vulnerability Lexa had not yet seen from her in her gaze. “I’m not choosing her over you, or helping you rather than her. I’m the idiot who’s trying to get you idiots to call out to each other, or at the very least, pull off the blindfolds.”</p><p>“I have been calling out to her.”</p><p>“Have you told her how you feel? Have you shouted at her? Let her know you’re angry and hurt? Have you bothered to sit down and make sure she knew she did wrong by you?”</p><p>“It was my fault—”</p><p>“We’re not discussing Finn, Lexa!”</p><p>“No, but it always comes back to him, doesn’t it? The reason Clarke and I are so lost is because of him.”</p><p>“You two were lost way before he came into the picture.”</p><p>“She abandoned me because of him! She told all our friends to abandon me! When I needed help, when I needed someone to lean on, when I needed—” She cut herself, hating the smug look on Carol’s face.</p><p>“So what you’re saying,” she said slowly, “is that you’re angry with her.”</p><p>“What I’m saying is that two wrongs doesn’t make a right. This ‘hard to get’ game doesn’t sit well with me.” Carol sighed and sat down at the table, resting her chin on her hand, staring at Lexa like she was torn between hitting her and hugging her.</p><p>“When you’re tired of fumbling around in the dark, hon, let me know. I’m an old woman, my attention span is too short for all this back and forth drama.” Lexa cracked a small grin and nodded, glad that—for now—she had gotten her way.</p><p>“Whatever you say, Mrs. Griffin.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>They never said no to each other, but they fought all the time.</p><p>Their worst fight was in the middle of their senior year, and it involved Octavia.</p><p>She didn’t quite remember what Octavia had done—it might have been stealing her notes, telling Clarke that she had a crush on the girl who’d later be in their Economics class, or even something as silly as not having lunch with her as promised (it was likely all three)—and that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Lexa was angry with Octavia, and was angry with Clarke for not taking a side.</p><p>“You can’t be impartial!” Lexa had said, glaring at her friend. “She does this all the time, it pisses you off too. Tell her that we’re not going to stand for it.”</p><p>“The fight is between you and Octavia, Lexa,” Clarke said with a laugh, leaning forward to shove Lexa’s shoulder lightly. “Besides, it’s not that big a deal.”</p><p>“To you. To you it isn’t a big deal.”</p><p>“To everyone who doesn’t take offense to every little thing.”</p><p>“I take offense to every little thing, do I?”</p><p>“I didn’t mean it like that.”</p><p>“What did you mean?”</p><p>“Just…you’re easily offended, Lexa. Like, Objectively speaking. You get all aloof and distant and just shout your displeasure with your eyes.”</p><p>“Is this a joke to you? Me expressing a problem is just a joke?”</p><p>“Lexa—”</p><p>“You know what? You’re right. I’ll just be distant, how about that?”</p><p>They didn’t speak for a week and a half.</p><p>Lexa was miserable the entire time.</p><p>Clarke never apologized in words—instead, she knocked on Lexa’s door every morning and night, not speaking, not doing anything, merely wordlessly promising she’d be there when Lexa finally decided to open the door.</p><p>(After Finn, Lexa opened the door and Clarke wasn’t there.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Everyone else had gone to bed, but in an effort to avoid Clarke until she’d fallen asleep, Lexa fixed herself a cup of tea, sipping at it slowly in the kitchen. She had a book open in front of her, but the words swirled before her eyes.</p><p>“Can’t sleep?” Lexa looked up and smiled politely at John, shrugging and trying to collect her thoughts. He grinned right back, pouring himself a cup of tea as well, sitting across from her with a soft sigh. “I can’t either. This house makes me relive all the nights of my childhood, when Jake and Hannah successfully convinced me there was a monster under my bed.”</p><p>“Gullible kid, huh?”</p><p>“And gullible adult. I never really grew out of the phase.”</p><p>“That’s unfortunate.” He snorted, nodding and taking a large gulp of his tea.</p><p>“You know, I knew I’d like you before I ever met you.”</p><p>“Is that so?”</p><p>“Oh yeah. When Mom told me about you, she was excited. She thinks of you like family, which is a big deal.”</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin has been very kind to me.” John snorted again, giving her an incredulous look.</p><p>“Kind? Damn, kid. How long have you known Clarke again? Griffin’s don’t do <em>kind</em>. You’re either family or you’re not. There’s no in between. My dad used to say that we’re not in the business of bullshitting.” Somehow, someway, this got a laugh out of her, and John grinned, pleased. He leaned forward, tapping the table with his index finger. “See, when we were younger, there was a speech my dad gave to people brought into the family. When Jake got old enough, he started giving the speech. You know, the whole, ‘hurt her and we’ll hurt you’ thing. It’s all very cliché.”</p><p>“You’re going to give me the speech?”</p><p>“Me? Hell no. I’m not my dad or my brother, and I don’t even want to try to fill their shoes. Besides, I can tell. You don’t need the speech.” He paused, clearly waiting for her to say something, but Lexa remained silent, choosing to watch him, choosing to observe only, knowing she was treading dangerous waters. Regardless of what he said, John was vetting her out, in his own weird way, attempting to protect his niece. Lexa decided she’d let him.  “Clarke’s a big girl. She’s tough and strong.” He smiled, and Lexa noticed it was different from all the other ones. It was smaller, softer, fonder—as if this was his first sincere smile, the first smile that came from his heart and reached his eyes. “She’s like Jake, so if she trusts you, then I do too.” Lexa looked down, hiding the sudden welling of emotion by taking a hurried gulp of her tea, trying to ignore the twisting of guilt deep in her belly. Because Clarke didn’t trust her. Because John shouldn’t trust her—not when she was lying straight to his face.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Nothing to thank me for,” he said, waving her off. “But I do need to thank you.”</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“For my mom.” He smiled his real smile again, leaning back once more. “I don’t know what you two are doing, and honestly, I don’t care. But it’s making her smile. So it’s good enough for me.” Lexa played with her cup for a moment, staring at the dregs at the bottom, unable to help the furrow between her brows.    </p><p>“She’s sad,” Lexa said finally, not looking up. “She hides it so well, though. But when she thinks no one is paying attention…she’s just so sad.” John was silent for a long time before he spoke up, surprising Lexa enough that she looked up to meet his eyes (eyes that were Clarke’s, were his brother’s, were his mother’s, the Griffin blue eyes).  </p><p>“I’m sad,” he said, giving her a searching look, his mouth twisted into some sort of smile-frown, looking like he was about to cry. “Kate, Ellie, Peter, the others? All sad. But for my mom…He’d been her husband for over fifty years, and she’d known him even longer than that.” He collected their empty teacups and went to the sink, his back to her. “She’s not sad, Lexa,” he said, his tone different from anything she’d heard from him before, and for the first time, she wondered if she perhaps misjudged the big, burly, boisterous man. “Half of her died with him. But you make her smile, make her more like herself, and for that, I’m grateful.” Lexa didn’t know what to say to that, but John spared her the trouble of trying to come up with something. He turned on the faucet, washing their teacups, using the sound of gurgling water to hide the sound of the sob that escaped him—but Lexa knew it was there, because she was familiar with the way his back slouched, familiar with the way his head was bowed. So without another word, she spared him any embarrassment and left quietly, realizing that yes, she had indeed misjudged John Griffin: he had more than just his mother’s blue eyes, he also had her bleeding heart and her unwavering strength.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>She hesitated for a moment before opening the door.</p><p>The first thing that met her eyes was the empty bed, and her heart sank at the thought that Clarke was still awake, wanting to talk—a talk that would most definitely turn into something worse: a shouting match. But then she noticed the bundle of blankets on the ground, at the foot of the bed, swallowing hard when the bundle breathed.</p><p>“Clarke,” she said softly, stepping forward and leaning down by the sleeping girl, shaking her gently. “Why are you on the ground?”</p><p>“Cold,” she murmured, her voiced slurred by sleep.</p><p>“I know. So why are you on the floor?” Clarke seemed to doze off, and Lexa shook her once again. Her blue eyes flitted open briefly, focused blearily on Lexa, then closed.</p><p>“Not fair,” she muttered, wrapping the blankets tighter around herself. “Not fair to you.” Lexa studied the bed, the untouched pillow and blankets laid out for her, then looked back down at Clarke, fast asleep and snoring softly. The decision was easy.</p><p>She gently shook Clarke awake a third time, somehow managed to convince her to hook her arm around Lexa’s neck, and she half-carried, half-dragged Clarke to the bed. (Three truths: One, she loved Clarke.)</p><p>She pulled the covers and blankets over the blonde, before getting herself ready for bed, and after a moment of consideration, she slipped in next to Clarke. (Three truths: Two, she always loved Clarke.)</p><p>Lexa turned on her side, watched as Clarke slept, and she smiled. She smiled her first sincere smile of the day—smaller, softer, fonder smile, coming from the heart and reaching her eyes—and she reached out to briefly squeeze Clarke’s hand. (Three truths: Three, she would always love Clarke, and no matter how angry she was, that did not go away.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>She and Abby had gone on a walk, to ‘get out of the crazy house’ after a ‘crazy breakfast,’ when she heard it. Carol yelling, and Clarke yelling right back.</p><p>“I should go break that up,” Abby said, making to move forward, but Lexa immediately shook her head.</p><p>“No! I mean, it’s okay,” she hurriedly tacked on, noting the surprise on Abby’s face. “I got this. My girlfriend, my responsibility.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Abby asked, clearly attempting to hide her relief, though she wasn’t able to do it with any semblance of success (no one, Lexa learned, wanted to face the wrath of Griffin anger—especially not Carol Griffin’s anger).</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. I got this. You go on inside.” Abby looked mildly worried, but she nodded and turned back towards the house while Lexa headed towards the arguing, coming to a stop and hiding behind a tree when she heard her name.</p><p>“What I don’t get is why you seem to think Lexa needs your protection,” Clarke said, and Lexa could practically see her narrowed eyes accompanying the harshness of her tone and words. She did, however, wonder if she imagined the cadence of Clarke’s accusation, for of all the anger Clarke had ever thrown at her, this pained anger directed at her and Carol now was not one of them.</p><p>“I’m not protecting her.”</p><p>“You are, though. You take her side, you help her, you talk to her. When you know she came here just to lie to you, trick you.”</p><p>“Because you asked her!”</p><p>“What’re you two doing together?”</p><p>“I’m teaching her about showing backbone.”</p><p>“Lexa has plenty of backbone.”</p><p>“Not when it comes to you,” Carol said, and there was a short pause before Clarke seemed to collect her thoughts.</p><p>“Stop. I know what you’re—”</p><p>“You say she’s your best friend—”</p><p>“She is—”</p><p>“Then prove it, Clarke. Tell me. Tell me why you cut off all ties with her and why choose her to come here at all?”</p><p>“It slipped out. It was an accident.”</p><p>“We’re not in the business of bullshitting, Clarke.”</p><p>“It’s not bullshit.”</p><p>“Clarke. Tell me the truth.”</p><p>“What do you want me to say?” Clarke demanded. Lexa shifted slightly, wanting to get a look, but also not wanting to be seen. Because if she was seen, Clarke would clam up and she’d never get any answers.</p><p>“I want you to tell me what actually happened. I want you to tell me the truth. Not some cock and bull story about it ‘slipping out’ and having ‘no choice’ but to ask Lexa here.” Another pause followed, much shorter and broken only by the sound of footsteps—footsteps that seemed to grow more distant. Lexa wanted to follow them, but she knew she couldn’t. Perhaps Carol would tell her what Clarke had said later on…She was broken out of her thoughts as the footsteps got louder, though it was clear that the part she most wanted to hear—why Clarke ever asked her to come—was no longer being discussed.</p><p>“You can’t tell her.”</p><p>“I won’t.”</p><p>“I’m serious. You have to promise.”</p><p>“I promise, Clarke. I won’t say a word. But you didn’t answer my other question. Why?”</p><p>“Why what?”</p><p>“She’s your best friend. And even if you didn’t love him, you cared for Finn. So after everything happened, why didn’t you ask her why she left? This girl you trusted beyond everyone else, the one who you entrusted the boy you cared for to, why didn’t you ask why?”</p><p>“Why she left him? Why she let him drive? Does it matter? She did it.”</p><p>“I’ve known Lexa for far less time than you and I know she doesn’t do anything without thinking it to death. She thinks and thinks things to death, revives it, then thinks it to death again. She’s careful, practical, logical. Pragmatic. So why? Why did she leave him?” Lexa’s heart pumped so hard that she was sure it would thump right out of the jail composed of ribs and muscle, her mind going blank as her heart attempted to make its escape.</p><p>(“<em>Picked fights all the time. Then ran to you. I knew it, I knew why. And it fucking pissed me off.”</em>)</p><p>“I didn’t ask why because the why didn’t matter.”</p><p>“Of course it matters, Clarke. What would make the trustworthy Lexa break a promise?”</p><p>(<em>“I’m calling you a cab. I’ll stay here until it gets here. But after that, you and me? We’re through.”</em>)</p><p>“Because Lexa wasn’t as trustworthy as I thought.” The words hit her like a battering ram, and her heart—in the middle of its prison break—stopped in its tracks, as if it was reconsidering its decision.</p><p>“You’re lying. You’re just afraid, afraid to know for sure that you made a mistake.”</p><p>“My mistake was never in question. I shouldn’t have turned my back on her. But she shouldn’t have done it first.” And just like that, Lexa’s heart turned right around and took its rightful place in its cage, beating faithfully on. The status quo would not change. Her efforts were Sisyphean in nature, and that would not change.</p><p>She loved Clarke (one).</p><p>Clarke still blamed her (two).</p><p>Lexa deserved this (three).</p><p>(That would not change.)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: this chapter was an attempt at a stylistic change. undergrad me thought it was cool and artsy. in hindsight, it was a bad idea. but c'est la vie I guess</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She had no idea how she made it back to the house without being seen, had no idea how she found her way upstairs without drawing attention, had no idea how her body seemed to work when her brain and heart were at such odds:</p>
<p><em>“</em>Leave!” her brain cried.</p>
<p>“Stay!” her heart begged.</p>
<p>She fumbled forward, at a loss, at an impasse, at a roadblock, at an insurmountable, unbeatable, unmovable wall.</p>
<p><em>She blames you</em>, her brain protested.</p>
<p><em>This is Clarke</em>, her heart reminded her. <em>No matter how much she’s hurt you, there is a reason you’re best friends, a reason you fell in love, a reason you two trust each other explicitly</em>(lies, lies, lies now, for even if those reasons existed, she couldn't seem to recall them).</p>
<p><em>She is breaking you</em>, her brain warned.</p>
<p><em>She has always put you back together</em>, her heart argued.</p>
<p>
  <em>Leave! (Stay.)</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Stay! (Leave.)</em>
</p>
<p>Lexa got to the bathroom, locked the door, turned on the faucet, and gripped the edge of the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. She seemed pale, dark shadows beneath her eyes, cheeks stained with tears. (<em>Leave! Stay!</em>)</p>
<p><em>When you needed her she was gone. She is shredding your heart. Protect yourself. Cutting off ties is far less painful than this charade, this train-wreck</em>, her brain suggested.</p>
<p><em>Two wrongs don't make a right</em>, her heart exclaimed. <em>If you don't like a behavior, you don't do it too.</em></p>
<p><em>Leave</em>, her brain pressed. <em>Protection is key. Fight or flight, and the time for fighting has long since passed.</em></p>
<p><em>Stay</em>, her heart stressed.<em>This isn't Clarke. This isn't the girl you love. Talk to her. Tell her the entire truth. If you're holding back, then why can't she be?</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Stay! (Leave.)</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Leave! (Stay.)</em>
</p>
<p>Lexa looked away from her reflection as a sob escaped her, as she bent forward, holding her middle, trying to prevent a panic attack, trying to stem the pain, trying to ignore her brain and her heart because they were the reasons she was even in this mess.</p>
<p>Her heart beat for Clarke.</p>
<p>Her brain made her think that was okay.</p>
<p>(It had been easy, loving Clarke. It had been safe, sure, sweet. It had been easy, loving Clarke. So when did it become so hard, so twisted, so prickly, so wrong?)</p>
<p><em>She's selfish</em>, her brain whispered. <em>Look at what she's done.</em></p>
<p><em>Lies</em>, her heart murmured.<em>Lying to yourself is not the way.</em></p>
<p><em>There was nothing there in the first place. No love. No affection. You were barely friends,</em>her brain continued.</p>
<p><em>Lies! Lies,</em>her heart bellowed. <em>You didn't pull those reasons out of thin air. What you felt was real and true. Remains real and true.</em></p>
<p>(What were the reasons? What, what, what?)</p>
<p>"Lexa?" A knock. Raven's worried voice.</p>
<p><em>Ignore it</em>, her brain hissed.</p>
<p><em>Open it</em>, her heart advised. (Open what?)</p>
<p>"Lexa. Let me in." Raven's voice was sterner, tougher, surer. (<em>Leave! Stay! Ignore! Open!)</em></p>
<p>She turned away from the sink, stared at the lock, and then, tremendously tentatively, she unlocked the door and let it swing open. Raven took one good long look at her before stepping in and closing the door, locking it once more.</p>
<p>"What happened?"</p>
<p>"I think that I should leave."</p>
<p>"What did Clarke do?" Lexa's shoulders couldn't bear the weight anymore. Her back had nearly buckled. Fighting was hard, fighting was exhausting, fighting no longer seemed worth it. (Reasons, there were reasons, she was sure, but she couldn’t remember them.)</p>
<p>(<em>Leave, leave, leave, leave!</em>)</p>
<p>"I came here to help,” she said, her voice breaking at the end. “At least, I think I did. Mostly. But I wanted to fix us. To tear off the blindfold and call out to her." Raven didn't say a word, she merely listened, merely lent her presence, her strength. "And I made mistakes. I know it. I do. Even before Finn."</p>
<p>"Lexa..." But Lexa merely shook her head, unable to listen. Because she knew Raven would defend her. Knew that Raven always rooted for her. Knew that even now, falling apart and fraying at the edges, Raven would offer support. (She knew, because Raven was there the next day. Raven had listened to the entire story and shook her head, repeating, <em>it's not your fault, it's not your fault.</em>) She knew, and she did not want support.</p>
<p>“You never told her.” Raven shook her head.</p>
<p>“You told me not to.”</p>
<p>“I think I should leave,” she repeated, and Raven sighed.</p>
<p>“I don’t blame you.”</p>
<p>“What would you do?” Raven leaned against the door, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes downcast.</p>
<p>“Honestly? I’d yell. Break something. Then I’d leave. Force her to take the first step to get back in my good graces.”</p>
<p><em>Leave</em>, her brain agreed. <em>Leave! You know Clarke will never take that first step.</em></p>
<p><em>Stay, </em>her heart said. <em>Who cares who takes the first step, what’s important is that the step is taken at all.</em></p>
<p>“What should I do?” she asked, no longer angry, no longer sad, no longer anything. She was empty. She was tired. So very tired. (Heart or head? Head or heart? Head or heart?)</p>
<p>(Neither, neither, neither. Both were trouble. Both were wrong.)</p>
<p>Raven smiled softly, and though Lexa wasn’t sure if she could ever forget what Raven had done—ever forget that when it came down to a choice, Raven took the easy way out and merely sided with the majority—she found she didn’t have the energy anymore to be angry with Raven. She knew she had every right to be, she knew. But her heart was worn thin, and she no longer wished to lie to herself—lie and claim she didn’t need anyone. (<em>She did, she did, she did</em>.) Weariness, exhaustion, fatigue had seeped into her bones, was a burden on her mind, was an impediment to the expansion of her lungs. Too tired to be angry. Too tired to keep up the fight. Too tired. Too tired.</p>
<p>“I can’t decide for you, Lexa,” Raven said, and Lexa nodded stiffly. “What do you want? Right now. What do you want?”</p>
<p><em>Don’t trust her. Leave! Don’t give in, </em>her brain shouted.</p>
<p><em>Stay. Choose me,</em>her heart whispered. </p>
<p>Lexa wiped her cheeks with her palms, stood straight, attempting to exude a strength she did not feel.</p>
<p>“A friend,” she said. “Just a friend.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bellamy leaned back, looking supremely uncomfortable. If he felt even half as much awkwardness as she did, she found she sympathized with him immensely.</p>
<p>This was a bad idea.</p>
<p>“This may have been a bad idea,” Raven muttered, looking from Bellamy to Octavia to Lexa, grimacing.</p>
<p>“For the record,” Bellamy said, holding up a hand, “I didn’t choose any sides. I haven’t talked to anyone in months.”</p>
<p>“Yes, thanks Bell. Your impartiality is noted,” Octavia muttered with a roll over her eyes.</p>
<p>“Lexa,” Bellamy insisted, ignoring his sister entirely, “I never blamed you. Finn was an ass when he drank. We all knew that. If anything, it was our fault for leaving him alone with you.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you should’ve told Clarke that,” Lexa said, fingering her paper coffee cup. The barista in the back eyed them oddly, clearly wondering why four twenty-somethings seemed to only speak in hushed, angry whispers. Lexa felt sorry for her, too.</p>
<p>“No one could tell Clarke anything after it happened,” Octavia said with a shrug. “She wasn’t talking to anyone. You think we all chose to abandon you and side with her, that we hung out and ignored you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, did you?”</p>
<p>“No,” Raven said immediately. “You’re the proverbial glue that held us together. With you and Clarke at odds, the rest of sort of…did our own thing.”</p>
<p>“I haven’t even seen Clarke since that night at the bar,” Bellamy said, leaning forward and looking at her intently. “I called a few times, but she ignored me, and honestly…I didn’t really try all that hard.”</p>
<p>“But you didn’t call me at all. Not once. None of you, except for Raven.”</p>
<p>“Yeah guys. Only I called.”</p>
<p>“Twice. Twice, Raven. Don’t get all high and mighty.” Octavia groaned, shaking her head.</p>
<p>“This was definitely a bad idea.”</p>
<p>“Why are we here?” Lexa asked, sighing.</p>
<p>“You said you wanted your friends. So here we are.”</p>
<p>“I asked for friends, not turncoats and backstabbers.”</p>
<p>“Lexa, we screwed up. And I know an apology won’t cut it,” Bellamy said, staring at her, his signature frown in place, his brown eyes serious. “So give us a chance to make it up to you. Let us help you, let us attempt to regain that trust.”</p>
<p><em>Say no, </em>her brain argued. <em>This is doomed to failure. Don’t repeat the same mistakes again. You’ll only end up hurt. </em></p>
<p><em>Say yes, </em>her heart suggested. <em>The risk of pain is worth it. Take a leap. Choose me.</em></p>
<p>“How’re you going to help me?” she asked, draining the last of her coffee. Octavia grinned widely, grabbing Lexa’s hands and squeezing them.</p>
<p>“Well, for one, we can shoulder some of that weight. I heard about the Greenes. Still want to paint her house and mow her lawn?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was dirty, covered in grass stains and paint, but she was grinning as she, Raven, and Octavia drove up to the Griffins’ home.</p>
<p>They’d worked for hours at Indra’s home, accepting her drinks but refusing the sincere and teary-eyed offer to stay for lunch. Instead, they’d had a quick—and unhealthy—meal at the nearest fast food restaurant, after which Bellamy decided to drive back home, pulling Lexa into a surprise hug before he left, promising her he’d text and call (and he did, literally five minutes later, prompting Octavia to call him a ‘suck up’).</p>
<p>All in all, it had been nice, full of jokes and catching up, a much-needed reprieve from the chaos and sadness of the morning. So she was grinning when they drove up to the Griffins’ home, was grinning as they headed to the kitchen to grab a beer, grinning when Octavia told her about her new boyfriend—“His name is Adam. And he’s just so lame. But in a good way”—and Raven told her about something involving her dissertation that went way over Lexa’s head.</p>
<p>She was grinning when Clarke walked into the kitchen.</p>
<p>Silence immediately fell, Raven and Octavia not moving or offering up explanations—as if they felt there was no need for an explanation—and Clarke staring at them with a blank expression. Lexa’s grin slowly faded as the silence grew longer, as the stillness stretched on. Then, as if there’d never been a pause at all, Clarke laughed.</p>
<p>“Is there more beer?” she asked and Raven heaved an audible sigh of relief as Octavia stood and grabbed a beer for Clarke.</p>
<p>“God, Clarke, it was the worst. Lexa had us working,” Octavia complained as she handed over the beer, clearly waiting to see what Clarke would do next. But Clarke seemed oblivious to the attention because she merely sat at the table and sipped at her beer.</p>
<p>“Where’d you go?”</p>
<p>“We got coffee with Bellamy, bought paints from the hardware store, then went over to the Greenes, to paint their porch and mow her lawn,” Raven said, grinning. “Though, it’s winter. Who knows what she’s been doing to that grass to make it grow.”</p>
<p>“I haven’t been there in ages,” Lexa explained, frowning. “And Indra doesn’t have time to tend to her lawn.”</p>
<p>“She had time to yell at us for not painting correctly,” Octavia murmured, but Raven punched her shoulder.</p>
<p>“Shut up. You were the one that seemed to think it was a good idea to teach Lincoln and Art that tossing around paint was okay.”</p>
<p>“It was funny.”</p>
<p>“To you maybe,” Raven muttered, and though Lexa laughed, her eyes were still on Clarke. Waiting, waiting, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for her to tell off her friends for being with Lexa for half the day, waiting for her to claim it didn’t do to be friends with people you couldn’t trust. But she didn’t do that.</p>
<p>Instead, she smiled.</p>
<p>And unlike Lexa’s smiles, or John’s smiles, or even Carol’s smiles, it wasn’t faked or forced or flimsy. It was true, honest, a genuine happiness appearing in her eyes. (Because Lexa knew, knew when Clarke smiled for real and when she didn’t. No one could read Clarke like Lexa.)</p>
<p>“It sounds like you guys had fun. That’s great,” Clarke said, still smiling, and when her eyes met Lexa’s, the smile didn’t fade, didn’t wither, didn’t die. It grew. “You needed to get out of the house. I know it can be frustrating with all my family.”</p>
<p><em>Tell her,</em>her brain shouted, flailing about.<em>Tell her you left because of her. Tell her that you heard her, were hurt by her. What goes around comes around—you went through pain, shouldn’t she too?</em></p>
<p><em>Choose me</em>, her heart whispered<em>. Choose me. </em></p>
<p>(What was love? <em>Kind, selfless, forgiving</em>, her heart whispered.)</p>
<p>(What was love? <em>Kind, selfless, forgiving, </em>her brain agreed.)</p>
<p><em>Do you love Clarke? </em>Always.</p>
<p>She smiled at Clarke—a real, sincere, not forced, not faked, not flimsy, sort of smile. (<em>Choose me</em>, her heart whispered.) “Yeah,” she said finally, “it was a lot of fun.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their game of Monopoly had turned into an all out war.</p>
<p>Ellie—who’d put up a fake sort of fight, pretending she wasn’t interested in such games—had teamed up with her brother, the two of them being rather serious about playing by the rules. Octavia and Raven, however, spent more time arguing with each other over who owned Park Place and Boardwalk than actually playing the game. Thus, it was Ellie who noticed that Lexa had been stealing from the bank rather consistently.</p>
<p>“Hey! That’s not fair!”</p>
<p>“I’m the banker,” Lexa explained. “I’m doing my job.”</p>
<p>“Where’s your integrity? Your honor?” Peter asked, looking offended. Lexa snorted and patted him on the head.</p>
<p>“Look, kid, I’m the <em>banker</em>. You’re lucky the bank has any money at all.”</p>
<p>“Stop cheating, Lexa,” Clarke said, not looking up from her book.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Clarke, I can’t hear you over the sound of my dough.”</p>
<p>“You’re literally stealing from kids,” Clarke responded, raising her eyebrows, meeting Lexa’s eyes, unable to hide her grin. “Stop being mean.”</p>
<p>“First of all, what’re Octavia and Raven? They’re adults.”</p>
<p>“Barely—”</p>
<p>“Secondly, if your cousins want an honest banker they should’ve said something.” Clarke laughed, put her book aside and came to sit on the floor next to Lexa, holding out her hand.</p>
<p>“It’s in the rules, Lexa, it’s implied,” Ellie said, raising her chin.</p>
<p>“You’re the weirdest fifteen year old ever,” Lexa muttered, crossing her arms. “How about I cut you in? Ten percent.”</p>
<p>“I’m not going to be a part of your illegal activities!”</p>
<p>“Oh my god. What are you?”</p>
<p>“Stop being mean, Lexa,” Clarke chided, but she was laughing. “Give back the money.”</p>
<p>“No, I like the money.”</p>
<p>“Let her keep the money,” Raven shouted, waving the Park Place card over her head, letting out a shriek when Octavia tackled her and tried to wrest the card out of her grasp. “Me and Lexa will rule the world!”</p>
<p>“I swear, I will not give two hundred to any of you when you pass go,” Lexa threatened when Peter and Ellie stared her down. “I’ll cut you both in. Ten percent each.”</p>
<p>“Why are you corrupting my cousins?” Clarke laughed, reaching over to grab a few of Lexa’s five hundred bills. Lexa’s eyes widened and she snatched the money out of Clarke’s hand, turning her back to her.</p>
<p>“No, don’t touch the money.”</p>
<p>“It’s not very nice,” Clarke chuckled, taking another bill. Lexa sighed, turning around.</p>
<p>“Okay, fine. How about I cut you in, too? Ten percent.”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding? I want fifty.”</p>
<p>“That’s not fair, I’m already giving twenty to the integrity police over there.” Ellie and Peter snorted in indignation. “I’ll give you twenty.”</p>
<p>“Fifty.”</p>
<p>“You drive a hard bargain. Twenty-five.” </p>
<p>“Lexa. Give me the money,” Clarke said, raising her eyebrows.</p>
<p>“You’re not even playing,” Octavia said, laughing when she managed to get Park Place. “What do you need the money for?”</p>
<p>“I’m Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor,” Clarke said, raising her chin, striking a pose.</p>
<p>“Who says I’m not the poor one?” Lexa muttered. “I should be compensated for being the banker.”</p>
<p>“That’s not in the rules,” Peter said, and Lexa picked up the thimble from the board, shaking her head.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Pete. The bank is officially kicking you out of the game for being a spoilsport.”</p>
<p>“You can’t do that!” Ellie said, but she was clearly trying to hold back a laugh. The fifteen year old who hadn’t even wanted to be there in the first place, trying to hide the fact that she wanted to laugh.</p>
<p>“I do what I want,” Lexa said, picking up Octavia’s piece as well. “You’re kicked out for stealing from my fellow dictator, Raven.”</p>
<p>“Stage a revolution!” cried Clarke.</p>
<p>“Charge!” cried Peter, and before Lexa knew what was happening, an eight year old had tackled her, sitting on her stomach. “Take the money back, Clarke. I got her.”</p>
<p>“Do you?” Lexa asked, and before Peter knew what was happening, she’d picked him up, spinning him around. “Still got me, Peter?” But the boy—clearly every bit a Griffin like his father—had a flair for the dramatics.</p>
<p>“Make my death count!” he shouted, reaching out theatrically towards his sister and cousin, before going limp in Lexa’s arms. Lexa dropped him onto the couch.</p>
<p>“Well damn,” she said, shaking her head with faux sadness. “The first casualty of war. Guess you won’t need your property or money.” Peter opened one eye.</p>
<p>“It’s Ellie’s.”</p>
<p>“You’re not selling it anymore, kid. Commit to your role.” He stifled a chuckle and closed his eyes.</p>
<p>“I’ll avenge Peter’s death,” Octavia said, standing and holding out a pillow like a shield. “Let’s go, Lexa.”</p>
<p>“I’m just going to put this out there, but you do realize this is all just a game, right Octavia?” Lexa said when she noticed the glint in Octavia’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Game? Monopoly isn’t a game. It’s war!” While Lexa stared at Octavia worriedly, afraid she’d actually attack, Clarke came up from behind, grabbing her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist.</p>
<p>“All right, Ellie. Take over the bank,” she said, her voice right by Lexa’s ear, and Lexa could do nothing but stand there, hating that her knees felt a little weak.</p>
<p><em>Abort, abort, abort,</em>shouted her brain. <em>Get out of here! You’re angry. You’re angry.</em></p>
<p><em>You can be angry later too,</em>her heart offered.</p>
<p><em>This is a trap! A trick! She luring you into a false sense of security. You’re angry, angry, </em>her brain reminded her.</p>
<p><em>This is Clarke</em>, her heart whispered<em>. Choose me. </em></p>
<p>Lexa pulled away, clearing her throat awkwardly.</p>
<p>“Sorry, guys. I forgot I had to call Anya. I’ll be back, okay? Ellie can have the bank.” And without looking to see their expressions, she fled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was forced to call Anya so that she wouldn’t be a liar. Her sister sounded breathless, and Lexa could barely hear her over whatever commotion was going on the other end.</p>
<p>“Is everything okay?”</p>
<p>“<em>Lexa, she got in! She got in!</em>”</p>
<p>“What’s going on? Is Mom all right?”</p>
<p>“<em>Better than all right! That clinic, the one with the top notch doctors, they called today, said she was accepted. I told them we couldn’t pay and they said it was already taken care of.</em>”</p>
<p>“What? Who—”</p>
<p>“<em>Some old dude died, apparently. Left a lot of money for cases like ours. But she’s in</em>, <em>God, she’s in</em>.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure? Like, this is legitimate? Totally credible?”</p>
<p>“<em>Yes! The paperwork went through just a few hours ago. Lexa, she’s going to get treatment. She’s going to be fine.</em>”</p>
<p>“Can I talk to her?” Anya didn’t answer—instead, there was the sound of shuffling, a muffled voice, and then, wonderfully—in a bright, strong, <em>healthy</em>voice—her mother spoke.</p>
<p>“<em>How’s the fake dating going, sweetheart?</em>”</p>
<p>“Your priorities are out of whack.”</p>
<p>“<em>Lexa.</em>”</p>
<p>“Not well. I think, well, I think I have to come to terms with the fact that sometimes people just drift apart.”</p>
<p>“<em>Are you okay?</em>”</p>
<p>“Yeah, of course.”</p>
<p>“<em>Right</em>.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“<em>Nothing. It’s just, sweetheart, you can lie to yourself. You can lie to Clarke. But you can’t lie to your mother.</em>”</p>
<p>“What am I lying about?”</p>
<p>“<em>You know.</em>”</p>
<p>“Mom. I’m glad you’re healthy. I’ll be back to see you as soon as I can.”</p>
<p>“<em>Take your time, Lexa. I already have Anya breathing down my neck twenty-four/seven. I don’t need you too.</em>”</p>
<p>“I love you, Mom. So much.”</p>
<p>“<em>Are you sure this is my daughter? Because my daughter hates talking about her feelings.</em>”</p>
<p>“Mom. I love you.”</p>
<p>“<em>Oh, sweetheart, I know. I love you too. And give Clarke my best. You should bring her with you. Even if things don’t work out. There’re some people you can’t afford to let drift away.</em>” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling lighter than she had in months. Her mother was getting treatment, was getting help, and she’d spent the day laughing with old friends, trying to repair what she once thought were wounds that could never heal (now, she thought that though the wounds would never go away, they would scar over, leaving her rough and blemished, changed and far more hesitant to trust but basically the same).  The lightness bubbled over and she let out a laugh, crazed and heavy and brilliant and freeing. She laughed.</p>
<p><em>A load off your heart</em>, her brain promised.</p>
<p><em>A load off your mind</em>, her heart promised.</p>
<p>A load off. It was a feeling. Relief. Emptiness faded away to be replaced by relief—terrifying, beautiful, fortifying, sweet relief.</p>
<p>She was still somewhat chuckling under her breath when the door opened and Clarke walked into the bedroom, not letting go of the doorknob, instead, just holding onto it and leaning back against the door.</p>
<p>“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said, somewhat awkwardly. When Lexa didn’t do anything but lay there, Clarke shifted from foot to foot before stepping forward hesitantly. It was terribly awkward, but she laid back on the bed too, their shoulders brushing, like all the times in college.</p>
<p>“My mom is getting treatment.” Clarke’s head swiveled to Lexa, her eyes wide (and blue, so blue, so blue).</p>
<p>“That’s great, Lexa!” she said, her smile so wide Lexa was sure it hurt. “That’s the greatest news! God, I’m so happy for you.” Lexa turned her head as well, facing her.</p>
<p><em>Don’t believe it, she lies,</em>her brain warned.</p>
<p><em>This is your best friend</em>, her heart argued.</p>
<p><em>A wolf in a sheep’s skin, </em>her brain pointed out.</p>
<p><em>Now who lies? </em>asked her heart.</p>
<p>“I read up on her condition and emailed a few physicians from school. Based on what I know, the prognosis is good with treatment. She may have problems with nausea. Some people—”</p>
<p>“—Clarke?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“You’re babbling.” Clarke blushed, broke eye contact, then shifted so her entire body was facing Lexa.</p>
<p>“Right. Sorry.” She grinned weakly. “Lexa—”</p>
<p>“Nothing sad. Or mean. Or angry. Okay? If it’s any of that, just…hold onto it till later. I’m happy right now, and I want to be happy.”</p>
<p>“It’s not sad. Or mean. Or angry.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>“I’ve been a bitch. A terrible friend. An even worse fake girlfriend. I know that.” She paused, broke eye contact once more, a frown on her lips. “And earlier, when I hugged you…God, Lexa. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“Because I made you uncomfortable. Because for a moment I forgot about how I’ve treated you. Because I’ve been a selfish prick.” Lexa stared at her, suddenly wondering if she was dreaming.</p>
<p>“I heard you. This morning. I heard most of the end.”</p>
<p>“I know. I saw you.”</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“I’m a liar, Lexa. And petty. I have problems. I kept waiting for you so say the safe word. I would have deserved it, you leaving.”</p>
<p>“No arguments here.”</p>
<p>“I saw you, and I don’t know. I was suddenly <em>angry</em>. Not because of Finn or you spending time with my grandmother or the fact you were eavesdropping, but because <em>I </em>haven’t talked to you in months.”</p>
<p>“That’s your own fault.”</p>
<p>“I know. And that pissed me off even more. Because she was right. I never asked why. What kind of asshole friend never even asks why? What kind of asshole friend hopes to hear the fucking safe word?”  </p>
<p>“Well, I know what the answer is, but I’m afraid to say it.”</p>
<p>“You have every right to say it.”</p>
<p>“For a while, I hated you.”</p>
<p>“I hated me too.”</p>
<p>“I hated that I couldn’t hate you.”</p>
<p>“I’m familiar with that. Except, you know, my anger was misplaced, yours was fully justified.”</p>
<p>“Clarke, it’s not.” She blinked, like she didn’t understand. Lexa swallowed and she shifted as well, laying on her side and facing Clarke.</p>
<p><em>Don’t tell her. Leave. She doesn’t deserve anymore from you, </em>her brain said.</p>
<p><em>Don’t tell her. Stay. What you have is good, this is enough, </em>her heart said.</p>
<p>There were three truths. She thought she knew them. She was wrong. Three truths, all dwindled down to one: It was time to come clean.</p>
<p>“Clarke, we need to talk about Finn.” Her blue eyes (blue, so blue, so very, very blue) shone, were bright, were filled with anxiety and worry and nervousness. She didn’t want to do it. But she would.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”</p>
<p><em>Experience tells us that this will break you two, but this time it may be irrevocably, </em>her brain warned.</p>
<p><em>She’s your best friend</em>, her heart whispered. <em>Choose me. Choose me one more time. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>PSA: before anyone gets heated in the comments like in the past few chapters let me make two brief points. first, a lot of you don't like this fic. that's cool. I wrote this FIVE years ago. even current me reads this and worries slightly about angsty past me. I'm not blind to the issues with the fic, it's obviously not perfect. that said, there's nothing that's been said that I haven't already heard, and in fact heard much more harshly. this fandom, for whatever reason, has quite a knack for making one really rethink writing at all. I would ask each of you to be kind. if not to me, then at least to each other (and especially to yourselves! if you don't like this fic why are you reading it?). second, to end my not so brief note, I usually err on the side of saying nothing about what something I wrote 'means,' mostly because I don't think I should dictate what others get from the silly stories I write. but if I had to sum this fic up in one word, I'd say it's about perception. it's about how people can go through the same thing together and come out of it with wildly different experiences. everything is in the pov of a single character, one who is biased and flawed and extremely hurt. just something to keep in mind</p>
<p>stay safe, happy, and healthy out there!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: the most unrealistic thing about this fic is that lexa is in law school and did absolutely nothing related to school during her christmas break. undergrad me did not understand what law school was. current me wishes I didn't understand what law school was</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She remembered the night was cool for September. She remembered because she had been wearing a sweater—a sweater she had not worn since, a sweater that was ruined and stretched and permanently scarred by the events of that night.</p>
<p>Finn was an angry drunk.</p>
<p>“So how long? How long have you been in love with her?” he asked, unsteady on his feet as she helped him out to the parking lot and towards her car. She released him as she processed his words, biting back her immediate response (<em>it’s none of your goddamn business</em>) and taking a deep breath to tamp down on her temper.</p>
<p>“You’re drunk, Finn,” she said, but he didn’t get the hint. Didn’t get that she was being patient with him. Didn’t get that she was trying. (<em>Why had she said yes? Why had she agreed to this?</em>)</p>
<p>(<em>The rest of them walked home. The rest of them had too much to drink.</em>)</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” he slurred. “Tell me the truth.”</p>
<p>“You’re drunk, and I promised Clarke I’d get you home. So come on.”</p>
<p>“You two lived together senior year. And I could tell. I could tell. You loved her. You love her.”</p>
<p>“Finn,” she said harshly, opening the passenger door of her car. She gestured for him to get in, but he shook his head, something ugly appearing on his face.</p>
<p>“I told her she couldn’t hate me for cheating on her because she was fucking you. That’s why she broke up with me. ‘Cause I said she wanted to fuck you.”</p>
<p>“Finn, shut up,” she said, her temper flaring. “Shut up and get in the car.”</p>
<p>“How long after she was single did you wait? To tell her? I wouldn’t have waited long if I were you. She couldn’t wait to run from me to you.”</p>
<p>“I swear to—”</p>
<p>“Picked fights all the time. Then ran to you. I knew it, I knew why. And it fucking pissed me off.”</p>
<p>“Finn—”</p>
<p>“I hate you. I hate you. You’re the reason we broke up.” He stepped forward, his voice dangerous, and Lexa clenched her fists, glaring at him.</p>
<p>“I’m going to call you a cab,” she said, no longer willing to put up with him, no matter what she promised. No matter what she’d said. “I’ll stay here until it gets here. But after that, you and me? We’re through.”</p>
<p>“Don’t pretend. We were never friends. You hate me. I hate you. But you got the girl. You.” Lexa rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m calling you a cab,” she said, pulling out her phone. He snorted softly and swayed a little as she made the call, hanging his head, letting his long hair cover his eyes.</p>
<p>“If you weren’t around,” he said, swaying a little more, using the open car door to keep him steady, “I’d get the girl.”</p>
<p>“What the hell, Finn?” He stumbled forward and grabbed her sweater’s collar, pulling on it, shaking her.</p>
<p>“I should get the girl. Me.”</p>
<p>“Let me go.” <em>Stay calm. You promised to get him home, not kill him or maim him. </em>But her thoughts did nothing to quell her flaring temper, her anger, her frustration. He had no right to touch her, no right to lay a hand on her.</p>
<p>“She should be mine,” he said, the smell of booze on his breath, his eyes glazed over, and Lexa was no longer willing to be patient, no longer willing to wait. She kicked him, hard, shocking him enough to let go of her collar, then punched him right below his ribs, knocking the air right out of him. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath, but Lexa didn’t have it in her to feel sorry for him.</p>
<p>“You don’t get to own Clarke,” she hissed, clenching her fists, ready in case he tried anything. But he seemed to have learned his lesson. He was shaking his head, muttering something under his breath. “You’re just bitter and angry because you know, you know, she never loved you. And that hurts, doesn’t it? It hurts, so you lash out at me. But you’re just pathetic, Finn.” He kept shaking his head, still mumbling under his breath. “You can walk home. The air will do you good.” And without bothering to wait for a response, she left him.</p>
<p>She got the call about Gustus Greene the next day. (Clarke had learned about it from Bellamy, who worked at the police department. Clarke then called Lexa, only to ask one thing: <em>How could you just leave him?</em>)</p>
<p>Raven arrived at her doorstep not two hours later.</p>
<p>Lexa shouted at her, snapped at her, taking out her feelings on her (because she felt a gnawing at her chest, a tearing, a ripping, a digging at her heart, and she needed an outlet, she needed a punching bag, she needed to release it somehow). What had she done? (<em>Why didn’t you take his keys, </em>she asked herself. <em>Why didn’t you just wait?</em>) Anger washed away. Guilt took its place. Finn wasn’t stupid. Finn knew better than to drive. Had she pushed him? Had her comments about him being pathetic pushed him over the ledge, made him want to prove her right? (Or perhaps, perhaps, he did it to punish her, did it because he knew that she was the sort of person who’d accept the guilt and blame, the sort of person who allowed the ones she cared for to get away with so much, the sort of person who’d suffer for another’s sins.)</p>
<p>Raven didn’t say much as she lent her strength and unwavering support, offering to be a punching bag, merely being there, a steady presence as Lexa’s world shook and crumbled and crashed and burned. But what she did say never quite registered with the guilt-ridden and downtrodden Lexa: “<em>It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She expected Clarke to create distance between them, expected her to get angry, expected her to give Lexa a disgusted look. She expected Clarke to do a lot of things after she told her everything, except the one thing she did: She moved until she was pressed against Lexa’s side, her arms wrapped tightly around Lexa.</p>
<p>“Clarke?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“What’re you doing?”</p>
<p>“Exactly what I should’ve done before. When it first happened.”</p>
<p>“Clarke—”</p>
<p>“It’s not your fault.” Lexa blinked. She’d heard those four words strung together in that order many times before—from Anya, from Raven, from Carol…again and again she’d been told that it wasn’t her fault. But somehow, when Clarke said it, it was different (for a moment, she thought, just a moment, Clarke had managed to wash away the ache of her guilt).</p>
<p>“Didn’t you hear me?”</p>
<p>“I did,” Clarke said, her voice soft, her oh so blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. “He tried to hurt you. He tried to hurt you, and you did the right thing. You left.”</p>
<p>“But I—”</p>
<p>“I am so sorry, Lexa,” she said, lower lip trembling, a tear breaking free from her control, and Lexa’s eyes followed its path down Clarke’s cheek, watched it roll down and drop onto the sheets. “I’m so sorry I left you alone to deal with this. Something that wasn’t even yours to bear.” Clarke’s words, words that she had ached and hoped and prayed and yearned to hear, lessened the pain, lessened the weight that dragged her under. Her words soothed her soul, her admission that she’d done something wrong—that Lexa had nothing to feel guilty for—eased her mind. And in the wake of the guilt’s and pain’s departure came an overwhelming, overpowering, overshadowing anger. (An anger, a frustration, brought on not by a desire for justice or retribution, but by a bruised heart and a wrung out spirit. She was sad. She was hurt. And that showed in her fury.)</p>
<p>“Why?” she asked, her voice betraying her, traitorously sounding broken rather than the fire she’d been going for—the accusatory tone she felt Clarke deserved turning into a desperate question. “Why were you so quick to believe the worst of me?” Clarke didn’t let go of her, didn’t loosen her grip. Didn’t move away. Didn’t leave. Didn’t leave. “Did you think I left him on purpose? That I wanted to hurt him? That I wanted Gustus Greene to—”</p>
<p>“No! No, God, no Lexa, of course not!”</p>
<p>“Did you think I was trying to hurt you?”</p>
<p>“No! No, I know—”</p>
<p>“Then what, Clarke? Why did you leave me alone? Why weren’t you there when I needed you?” She pulled away from Clarke, standing and moving to the opposite side of the room, wrapping her arms around her middle, trying to breathe, trying to control her racing heart. Clarke sat up on the bed, hands on her knees, looking positively broken.</p>
<p>“Because you left.” The three words were soft, and at first, Lexa thought she misheard.</p>
<p>“We just went over—”</p>
<p>“Before. Before Finn. You left.” Lexa was brought up short, not quite understanding what Clarke meant. “He was good at it, you know? Good at saying the right thing to make you feel wrong. And he knew me, knew how to push all my buttons.”</p>
<p>“What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“You always <em>leave</em>,” Clarke said, and her voice changed. It sounded hoarse from the lack of use, as if this was something shoved deep into her throat, begging and clawing its way out. As if this was something she never intended to say. “That fight over Octavia in college, you locked yourself up in you room. When I dated Finn, the only time you were <em>you</em>was when I was hurting. And then how you just moved out, without a word, without bothering to tell me.”</p>
<p>“What—”</p>
<p>“You<em>leave</em>. All the time. Things get rough and you shut down, don’t let anyone in, walls up. And Finn…God. He loved reminding me of it as often as he could.” She shook her head, clenching her hands into tight fists, looking away from Lexa. Looking so, so very vulnerable. (She wanted to give in, she wanted to give in, wanted to extinguish her anger, forgive Clarke right here and then, but Carol’s words rang in her mind: <em>show some backbone</em>. She wouldn’t allow anyone else to treat her this way, so why allow Clarke?) “You were ‘emotionally unavailable’ he would say,” Clarke continued, “because he had this insane idea that you were in love with me, and wanted to prove it could never work out.” <em>Oh. This is why</em>. (What was love? Kind, selfless, forgiving. <em>Was this love?</em>)</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t have listened to him.”</p>
<p>“I know, okay?” Clarke snapped, getting to her feet.</p>
<p>“Besides, that doesn’t explain why you didn’t talk to me. If I’m the one always leaving, why did <em>you</em>leave?”</p>
<p>“Because I was angry! I was tired! Because I called you, to tell you about Finn, and you shut me down.”</p>
<p>“You<em>blamed </em>me.”</p>
<p>“I told you before, I never blamed you.” Lexa opened her mouth to argue, but Clarke shook her head, raising her hands. “I asked if you wanted to talk. I asked what happened. I asked how it could happen. And you told me you were better off alone.” It was Lexa’s turn to shake her head.</p>
<p>“No. No. I’d remember saying something like that. I wouldn’t say that.”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t say that? Lexa, you said it to Octavia just two days ago. I heard you! You didn’t need anyone, certainly not me, right?”</p>
<p>“Clarke—”</p>
<p>“I didn’t ask you why you left him, and I should have. I didn’t stand by you, and I should have. I abandoned you when you needed someone, and I will always regret it and will always try to make up for it.” More tears spilled, falling to the ground. Lexa watched that, because it was easier than meeting Clarke’s eyes. “But you left me too, Lexa. And it doesn’t make up for what I did, I know that. But it hurts.” Tears fell earnestly by this point, Clarke’s cheeks covered with the liquid, turning her eyes red, pain etched into the downward curve of her lips. (It was a pain Lexa was familiar with, a pain she dealt with each day, and she swallowed.)</p>
<p>When did things get so warped?</p>
<p>When did things go so wrong?</p>
<p>When did she stop seeing things as they were?</p>
<p>When, when, when, when?</p>
<p>“I’m not emotionally unavailable,” Lexa muttered, latching on to the one part she could refute. The one part she could comprehend. “I just hate talking about my feelings.” Clarke snorted, wiping her cheeks with her sleeves.</p>
<p>“I know, Lexa,” she said, letting out a weak chuckle. Lexa cleared her throat, looking up, scratching the back of her neck.</p>
<p>“If I did talk about my feelings, though, I’d tell you that I’m hurt.” She grimaced, the words coming out forcefully, every part of her resisting the admission, resisting the confession. She quelled the urge to gag. “I’d tell you I’m hurt and infuriated. But if you could forgive me for leaving you all those times, then yeah. Eventually, I can forgive you for this.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Not anytime soon. You’ll have to work at it. I expect gifts and constant attention.” She was about to say more, but Clarke silenced her by rushing forward and pulling her into a tight embrace, nearly squeezing the very air out of Lexa’s lungs. For a moment, she stood there, frozen, but after a deep breath, she hugged her best friend back, wondering if Clarke could feel how her heart raced (wondering if Clarke noticed the way her face had fallen when she’d so easily waved off Finn’s certainty that Lexa was in love with her).</p>
<p>“Why did you agree to come here if you’re so angry with me?” Clarke asked, her voice a whisper, her breath against Lexa’s ear.</p>
<p>“That’s not about Finn. Why were you upset when I moved out?”</p>
<p>“That’s not about Finn either.”</p>
<p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>“Are you going to say the safe word?” Lexa pulled away, and found herself—inexplicably, bizarrely—tucking a stray strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Do you even remember it?” Clarke asked, sounding a little different (smothered, like there was something on the tip of her tongue, ready to be unleashed, but she was actively tamping down on).</p>
<p>“Yeah. Of course.”</p>
<p>“You can say it. I won’t consider it leaving. If anything, I deserve it.”</p>
<p>“Clarke, I won’t say it.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“That’s not about Finn. Why do you want me to say it so bad?”</p>
<p>“That’s not about Finn either.” Lexa narrowed her eyes and studied Clarke and Clarke mirrored the expression. For a moment they were both silent, and then Clarke smiled and shrugged. “No way this is going to come back and bite us in the ass, right?” she asked sarcastically.</p>
<p>“You could just tell me.”</p>
<p>“You first.”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Okay then. So we wait.”</p>
<p>“Fine.” Lexa went to the door, turning around before she left the room. “Just letting you know, I’m not sleeping on the ground anymore.”</p>
<p>“No one told you to in the first place, Lexa!” Clarke called, but Lexa just waved and walked into the hallway, the feeling of lightness from before gone, but feeling more relaxed than she had in ages.</p>
<p>That was, until, she ran right into Elizabeth, whose eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You two are <em>not</em>dating,” was the first thing Elizabeth said, closing her mouth, her eyes returning to a normal size.</p>
<p>“What gave it away, Aunt Lizzie? The yelling?” Clarke asked sarcastically, prompting Lexa to elbow her lightly in the side.</p>
<p>“You need to keep this a secret,” she said, looking around, keeping her voice down. “No one can know.”</p>
<p>“So, wait. Clarke. Are you not bi? If you’re not dating Lexa?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“We’ve been lying to her entire family, and that’s the issue she raises,” Lexa muttered under her breath, earning her own elbow to the side.</p>
<p>“Aunt Lizzie, concentrate. Okay? My mom cannot know.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Abby is too intense. She needs to relax.”</p>
<p>“So that’s a yes? You won’t say anything?” Lexa asked, raising her eyebrows at how easy this was.</p>
<p>“What? Yeah, I don’t care about that. What I do care about is how easily you two tricked the rest of us. Damn. You act like a couple.”</p>
<p>“Well, technically, we didn’t trick the rest of you. Mrs. Griffin knew from the get go.”</p>
<p>“Shut up, Lexa.”</p>
<p>“My mom knew? I knew she was acting too smug about something. I want in. On whatever she’s doing with you two.”</p>
<p>“She’s not doing anything with me,” Clarke muttered, shrugging. “Grandma is scheming with Lexa.”</p>
<p>“She’s teaching me how to have backbone,” Lexa said proudly, raising her chin. “It’s working.”</p>
<p>“You know, she’s known me longer,” Clarke said petulantly.</p>
<p>“Yeah, and she likes me better.”</p>
<p>“Hey—”</p>
<p>“Oh! And you two even <em>argue</em>like a couple! God. If this is what Mom has been dealing with the whole time, well, no wonder she’s stressed.” Lexa frowned.</p>
<p>“She’s not stressed. She’s fine.”</p>
<p>“I know my mom, Lexa. She’s stressed. I think the house being this full is freaking her out. It hasn’t been this way since way before dad passed, and she feels his absence ever more.”</p>
<p>“I think I’m going to go see her,” Lexa said, no longer paying attention to whatever Elizabeth was saying.</p>
<p>“What am I supposed to do about her?” Clarke asked, indicating her aunt. Lexa shrugged.</p>
<p>“She’s your relative,” she said, and Elizabeth looked unconcerned that they were talking about her right in front of her. Her eyes were narrowed as she shook her head.</p>
<p>“No, but seriously. Are you two really not dating?” Clarke merely blinked and Lexa grimaced.</p>
<p>“Yeah. I’m going now.”</p>
<p>“Save yourself,” Clarke muttered. Lexa headed down the stairs, laughing as she heard Clarke’s heavy sigh behind her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Carol was furiously scrubbing away at the table.</p>
<p>“Hannah’s coming in tomorrow morning,” she said without looking up, and Lexa hung back, watching the older woman work, unsure how to move forward. “My entire family, back under my roof. For the last time.”</p>
<p>“Why does the house go to Marcus Kane?” Carol paused her work and shrugged.</p>
<p>“James and I discussed it a long time ago. Neither one of us wanted to live in the house if the other one was gone. So we decided to leave the house to Jake.” She smiled, but it was bitter, it was bland, it was beaten. “After Jake passed, no one wanted it. So the deal was it would be sold, the money evenly distributed among us.”</p>
<p>“Where will you go?” She shrugged again, but this time looked up, meeting Lexa’s eyes evenly.</p>
<p>“I’ll stay with John for a while, then with Lizzie, then with Hannah. Then I’ll move into my own small apartment. Somewhere closer to the city, so that I can see my grandkids more often.” Lexa nodded, stepping forward, still unsure how to treat this new, fragile, vulnerable side of Carol Griffin. (She had been this way from the start, Lexa knew, only it had now grown too hard for her to hide it, too hard for her to pretend otherwise. And Lexa felt nothing but sympathy—for she understood, or at least, she thought she did.)</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin—”</p>
<p>“Don’t feel sorry for me, Lexa. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” She smiled again, and this time it was a little stronger, though a little watery. “I married my best friend. I had over fifty years with him. I have great kids, great grandkids, and excellent honorary granddaughters.” She dropped her rag, collapsing into the chair behind her, looking worn, looking every single day of her age. “I’ve had a good life. A wonderful life. And it’s not over yet. So don’t feel sorry for me.”</p>
<p>“I don’t,” Lexa said, shaking her head and sitting across from Carol, her eyes on the table. “I was going to say I wish I’d known him.” She cleared her throat, looking back up. “Mr. Griffin. I wish I’d met all of you years ago. Known you longer.”</p>
<p>“Lexa—”</p>
<p>“It’s always been me, Anya, and my mom. No aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no grandparents. No dad. My family has consisted of two people my whole life, but for the past week or so, it’s just…all of you have taken me in with open arms. I just wish I’d known you longer.” Carol smiled at her, a knowing glint in her eyes, and Lexa knew she was perfectly aware of what Lexa <em>wanted</em>to say, but couldn’t. What she <em>felt</em>but couldn’t put into words. Carol looked at her and smiled, and it was strong, it was sure, it was sturdy, and Lexa was glad.</p>
<p>“I told you, Lexa, you’re always welcome in my home. Even when it’s a small apartment, the only place to sleep being the couch.”</p>
<p>“Your couch is pretty comfortable.”</p>
<p>“It is, isn’t it? It was a good investment.”</p>
<p>“It was.”</p>
<p>“Enough chit chat. I haven’t seen you all day. What were you and the others up to?” Lexa laughed, offered to fix the older woman a cup of tea, and proceeded to tell her about the Greenes, their Monopoly game, and even her talk with Clarke. And at the end—after Carol appropriately laughed at all Lexa’s jokes, after she nodded seriously (and approvingly) at Lexa’s decision to not forgive Clarke quite yet, after she talked a bit about how she always knew Finn was trouble—Carol drained the last of her tea, kissed Lexa on top of the head, and wished her ‘honorary granddaughter’ good night.</p>
<p>And despite herself, Lexa felt a little at home.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, I guess you and Clarke finally hashed it out,” Raven said, walking with Lexa, claiming that it was far too early to go to bed, that everyone else was ‘crazy.’ The two of them shivered in the night’s chilly air.</p>
<p>“Heard that, huh?” Raven shoved her hands deep into her pockets in an useless attempt to keep them warm, shrugging.</p>
<p>“I ran interference,” she said. “So no one would overhear you two.” Lexa snorted.</p>
<p>“You weren’t very good. Elizabeth heard us.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but whatever. She’s practically one of us.”</p>
<p>“You were right, by the way. What you said over the summer. About me moving out.”</p>
<p>“I told you. Clarke never got over it.”</p>
<p>“Even after Finn?”</p>
<p>“Especially after Finn. Clarke made mistakes, I know, but trust me on this, Lexa. There’s no one, absolutely no one, that Clarke loves more than you.”</p>
<p>“Just not the same kind of love I feel, right?” Raven smiled sadly, leaning her head on Lexa’s shoulder as they walked (this too was an attempt to keep warm, but Lexa remained silent, merely rolling her eyes).</p>
<p>“You’re the one who knows her the best. You tell me.”</p>
<p>“She’s surprisingly good at hiding how she feels.”</p>
<p>“I guess she must’ve learned from her best friend.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Griffin, Anya, even Elizabeth, said it was obvious. So why isn’t it obvious to her?” Raven moved away, studying Lexa for a moment before letting out a soft sigh.</p>
<p>“I think,” she said slowly, “we see what we expect to see, not what’s really there. You said something about a blindfold and calling out to Clarke, right?” Lexa nodded. “You’re making it too complicated, Lexa. Take it from an engineer. Just turn on the damn light.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>// </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clarke was awake when Lexa slid into bed.</p>
<p>“This isn’t awkward at all,” she said softly, her voice ringing as it broke the silence.</p>
<p>“Now that you said that, it is awkward.”</p>
<p>“I can sleep on the ground.”</p>
<p>“No one is sleeping on the ground. It’s cold.”</p>
<p>“If you were drunk, and I was drunk, would you sleep on the ground?”</p>
<p>“I don’t understand the question, Clarke.”</p>
<p>“Aunt Lizzie says she’ll help us fool my mom. Says it’ll be her payback for all the ‘why doesn’t Lizzie get married’ comments.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t know your mom was traditional.”</p>
<p>“She’s not. Literally no one but Aunt Lizzie brings up her unmarried status.”</p>
<p>“You think she wants to get married?”</p>
<p>“Desperately. She’s practically Lydia Bennet.”  </p>
<p>“Oh. That’s pretty desperate.”</p>
<p>“Lexa?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“When I wake up, will you still be here?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Even though you’re mad?”</p>
<p>“Even though I’m mad.” Lexa shifted, her back facing Clarke, and they spoke no more. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: I love the name maddie. getting to have two maddies in this fic was just a dream come true</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hannah Griffin was a lawyer or stockbroker or accountant or CIA agent (Lexa wasn’t quite sure which and it didn’t really matter). She was serious, a no nonsense sort of person, looking coolly down at everyone with her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, a permanent expression of slight boredom etched onto her features.</p><p>Lexa liked her immensely.</p><p>“You must be the girlfriend,” she said, shaking Lexa’s hand professionally, as if this were a business meeting. “It’s really nice to meet you, after everything my mom’s said.”</p><p>“It’s nice to meet you too.”</p><p>“Where’s Trevor?” Elizabeth interrupted, forcing Hannah to look away, raise her eyebrows imperiously, and let out a perfectly measured sigh—enough to express sadness, not enough to indicate any sincerity.</p><p>“He got called away. Can’t make it,” Hannah said smoothly, reaching out to hug Clarke and then hug her sister. “But the twins came with me. They’re bringing in the bags.”</p><p>“Lexa and I’ll help,” Clarke offered, and before Lexa could argue—point out she wanted to spend more time with Hannah—Clarke grabbed her arm and dragged her outside. Two girls were standing behind the car, struggling with a heavy-looking bag, dropping it the moment they noticed Clarke.</p><p>“C!” they yelled simultaneously, one of them rushing forward and enveloping her in a tight hug. They couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven years old.</p><p>“Mom said you’d be here,” the one who rushed forward muttered, hugging her cousin tighter. </p><p>“Lexa,” Clarke said, motioning for her to step forward. “This is Madelyn.” She gestured to the girl holding her. “And that’s Madison,” she said, pointing to the one who hung back. Lexa frowned, knowing for a fact that she would never be able to tell them apart, deciding right then to call them both Maddie and be done with it.</p><p>“Your girlfriend is pretty,” the one still hugging Clarke whispered, and the girl hanging back (Madison?) rolled her eyes.</p><p>“She can hear you, Madelyn.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“How about you two take the lighter bag inside and Lexa and I will take care of the others, okay?” The Maddies nodded at Clarke, grabbed the smaller bag, and walked towards the house, arguing the entire way.</p><p>“So. Maddie One and Maddie Two seem to like you.”</p><p>“Seriously?”</p><p>“They look the same.”</p><p>“They’re twins, they’re supposed to.”</p><p>“They were too excited to see you. Is that normal for a cousin?”</p><p>“You should be nice, they’re going through a tough time,” Clarke said, shaking her head. “Aunt Hannah’s divorce was just finalized about two weeks ago.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Yeah. Trevor was caught with his pants down. Literally. He used to work at the same hospital as my mom, but he’s gone now.”</p><p>“Wow, drama in the Griffin family.” She frowned. “You think if we tell Elizabeth she’ll lay off us and annoy her sister instead?”</p><p>“You can’t tell anyone. I think Aunt Hannah is waiting until this thing is all over.”</p><p>“Anya and I never lied to our mom.”</p><p>“Because your mom isn’t Abby or Carol Griffin, terrorizers and judgers.”</p><p>“You left out oppressors.”</p><p>“You think? That’s not going too far?”</p><p>“Not at all! If anything, you’re not going far enough.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah. Hold on, before you say anything else, let me record this.”</p><p>“Oh shut up.”</p><p>“Come on, Clarke! Don’t you want me to have evidence? In case your terrorizers and oppressors murder you in your sleep or something?” Clarke shouldered a bag, shaking her head.</p><p>“You’re going to regret this when you’re officially a part of this family. You’ll understand me then.” She said it casually, said it and walked towards the house, but Lexa was rooted to the spot, frozen. She was just reading into it, she thought. Nothing said so nonchalantly, so offhandedly, so insouciantly, could possibly mean anything.</p><p>It was a lighthearted joke, a jape, a jest.</p><p>It meant nothing.</p><p>(So why did it make her heart thud—not painfully, not anxiously, but excitedly? Why did it make something vital in her—her veins, her heart, her lungs—thrum contentedly? Why did she feel warm out in the cold?)</p><p>It meant nothing.</p><p>(It meant everything.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Carol handed Lexa the list in her hand wordlessly, and Lexa sighed.</p><p>“Why do I have to take you?”</p><p>“Why do you sound like a child? Madison would come happily.”</p><p>“Then ask Madison.”</p><p>“Because you’re so busy here, right?”</p><p>“I’m doing incredibly important work.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Listening to Elizabeth and Hannah argue.”</p><p>“That’s not work, Lexa, that’s free entertainment. Grab your coat, we need to go.”</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin, you have to promise, no analogies, no metaphors, no talking about Clarke in general.”</p><p>“Fine. It’s not like you two have problems and desperately need help getting through them. We can talk about the weather.”</p><p>(Carol ended up talking about the weather throughout the drive to the grocery store, and it was Lexa who broke first.)</p><p>“We were just here a few days ago, what else could you possibly need?” Carol huffed, pushing their buggy past the frozen foods and straight towards the canned goods.</p><p>“I’ll have you know, feeding fourteen people isn’t easy.”</p><p>“Kick a few out.”</p><p>“You’d be the first to go.”</p><p>“Ouch, Mrs. Griffin. That hurt.” Carol chuckled as she picked up a can of beans, studied it, and after a moment, tossed it and two others carelessly into the buggy.</p><p>“Can I ask you a question?” she asked, not meeting Lexa’s eyes as she moved out of the aisle and straight towards the cereals.</p><p>“I’m assuming you’d ask no matter my answer.”</p><p>“Why do you love her?” Lexa stopped, a box of a sugary marshmallow cereal in her hand, her mouth falling open.</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“She told me some of the things she said to you. How she’s treated you. And I know the only reason you’re still here is because you love her. But I want to know why.”</p><p>“You don’t fall out of love just because someone hurt you,” Lexa muttered, looking down and tossing her cereal into the buggy. Carol eyed it distastefully, but didn’t comment on it.</p><p>“You can’t fall out of love with people at all,” she said, shaking her head. “Love is like…energy. It’s not created or destroyed. It’s just converted, changed, used to fuel something else.” She motioned Lexa to follow her, leading them to the checkout aisles.  </p><p>“So when you fall in love with someone,” Lexa asked, ignoring the checkout girl’s eyes on her, “where do you think that love comes from? If you don’t create it?”</p><p>“It’s already a part of you, a limitless resource. So when you meet someone and your frequencies just mesh, that love, which went out in a hundred different directions, converges at a single point.” She tutted at the checkout girl, who blushed and took Carol’s card. “But it takes effort,” Carol continued, turning back to Lexa, “to keep that love directed at that single point.”</p><p>“So you’re asking…why do I bother with that effort anymore?” To her ultimate surprise, however, Carol shook her head.</p><p>“No, I want to know why you bothered with it in the first place.” Lexa opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, watching as the checkout girl handed Carol her card back.</p><p>“You want to know why I love Clarke?”</p><p>“Yes, exactly.”</p><p>“How on earth am I supposed to explain that? I don’t have a reason. I just do.”</p><p>“That’s not good enough, Lexa,” Carol said, letting out an impatient huff and giving Lexa a glare. The woman waiting behind them in line was also shaking her head, but the checkout girl was leaning forward, a smile on her face.</p><p>“She can make me laugh.”</p><p>“Boring.”</p><p>“She’s kind. Constantly thinks about others. Selfless.”</p><p>“But why do you love her?”</p><p>“I don’t understand the question, Mrs. Griffin!” Lexa hissed, throwing up her hands. “What do you want me to say?”</p><p>“I want to know how you know you love her. I want to know what you’re feeling.” Lexa clenched her hands into fists, felt the eyes of the woman behind them bore into her back, was unable to ignore the way the checkout girl was staring at her.</p><p>“I don’t talk about my feelings, Mrs. Griffin.”</p><p>“You don’t talk about it or you don’t even bother to evaluate it?”</p><p>“I know how I feel. I do.”</p><p>“Fine. Then tell me when you fell in love with her.”</p><p>Lexa blinked.</p><p>She couldn’t possibly pinpoint the precise moment she fell in love with Clarke.</p><p>Oh, she knew the moment she suddenly <em>knew</em>. Could rattle off the day and time that everything fell into place and she put a name to the feelings she had around the blonde. But the precise moment that it happened—that second, that instant, that heartbeat’s worth of time—was lost on her. She had no idea when her feelings shifted and ignited and exploded, but she could vividly see the wreckage left in its wake, could see it and could name it and took comfort in it.</p><p>(She described this to Anya once, and Anya had merely looked at her and asked if she knew she was comparing falling in love to a bomb. But that was the point. Wasn’t it? Love, this damaging, this destructive, this deadly power, capable of tearing her apart, tearing her into shreds, tearing, tearing, tearing, instead kept her rooted. Foundation on uneven ground, an anchor in a tumultuous storm, a steady warmth in the blistering cold. Love, capable of so much devastation, instead left her feeling safe and secure. The explosion caused wreckage, yes, but the wreckage was necessary to build something new, something substantial and firm—something strong. Something that would last.)</p><p>She couldn’t possibly pinpoint the precise moment she fell in love with Clarke. It was a stealthy foe, slipping into her heart without detection, and then going off like fireworks, her walls coming down in a flurry of flares and fire, her walls nothing but flimsy paper when faced with such a force.</p><p>She couldn’t possibly pinpoint the precise moment she fell in love with Clarke, no. But if she had to guess she’d say it was outside the library on a cold, wet, miserable sort of day in the middle of finals.</p><p>“I figured it out in senior year,” she said finally, swallowing hard. “I slept through my alarm. I was late for one of my classes, was frantic, and she just grabbed me and sat me down. Told me to eat my cereal.” She gestured to the sugary marshmallow cereal, and Carol raised her eyebrows. “I don’t have an answer for you, Mrs. Griffin. Not the one you want. I don’t know when I fell in love with her. I don’t know why. I just know that if being in love with someone means putting in the effort to direct your infinite source of love towards that person, then yeah. I’m putting in that effort.”</p><p>“I think that’s beautiful,” the checkout girl said, wiping her cheeks. Carol narrowed her eyes.</p><p>“Your opinion is noted. But this girl is spoken for.”</p><p>“Shame,” the woman in line behind them muttered, shaking her head, causing Lexa to blush. Carol, however, rolled her eyes.</p><p>“You’re<em>married</em>, Betsy. Get a hold of yourself.” Lexa smiled slightly at that, but didn’t speak at all as they placed the groceries in the car or on the drive back home, ignoring all of Carol’s comments about the weather. It wasn’t until they pulled up to the house that Carol finally admitted defeat and broke down.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot.”</p><p>“It’s fine.” She made to get out of the car.</p><p>“Lexa?” With a sigh, she paused, not turning around. “It’s selfish, but I’m glad you’re putting in the effort.”</p><p>“What did she say to you? The other morning? Why did she really ask me here?”</p><p>“To get Abby off her back.”</p><p>“Why are you lying to me?”</p><p>“Because I don’t think you’ll like the truth.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Lexa rarely drank enough to get drunk. In fact, since meeting Clarke, she’d avoided excessive alcohol in fear of saying something she didn’t want to say (things like ‘I love you’ and ‘you’re wasting your time with him/her, I’m the one for you’).</p><p>But dinner was awkward. So awkward that she found herself drinking wine in order to have something to do, and one glass had turned into quite a few (she lost count somewhere after Abby mentioned how grateful she was for Lexa and Elizabeth began snorting obnoxiously).</p><p>“Hey, Lexa,” John said, chewing thoughtfully on his chicken. “Any ex-girlfriends we need to worry about? Someone who’d crash your wedding? Like in that Taylor Swift song?”</p><p>“I think it’s a little too soon to be talking marriage,” Clarke interrupted, eyes wide.</p><p>“Marriage is for dweebs,” Hannah muttered, draining her wine. She held out her glass and Lexa happily refilled it, refilling her own as well.</p><p>“We haven’t had a wedding in a while,” Elizabeth said, tilting her head to the side. “And it’s never too soon to be thinking of weddings.”</p><p>“I think we should talk about the weather,” Carol offered, and Lexa nodded immediately.</p><p>“No, but seriously,” John said, raising his hand. “We know about Clarke’s ex. What about you, Lexa?”</p><p>“There won’t be any problems in that department. She’ll never talk to me again.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Clarke asked, suddenly looking interested (or maybe that was just Lexa’s wishful thinking). “You never told me what happened there.”</p><p>“There’s nothing to tell.” Clarke nodded in acceptance, but Raven snorted.</p><p>“That’s a big fat lie,” she said, shoving Lexa’s shoulder. “What you did was harsh.”</p><p>“It really wasn’t.”</p><p>“I’ll tell them if you don’t,” Raven said, and Lexa sighed, sitting back in her chair, and shaking her head. “See, at the time, Clarke and Lexa were really good friends. Hadn’t started dating yet.” She elbowed Lexa hard in the side, and Lexa nearly groaned as Elizabeth burst into laughter and Carol looked amused. Clarke merely looked down, blushing furiously. “But this girl, who Lexa really liked by the way, felt threatened.”</p><p>“Raven, don’t exaggerate.”</p><p>“Fine. She was jealous. Of how close Clarke was to Lexa. So she told her to choose.” Clarke didn’t look up, Peter was way more interested in trying to get rid of his broccoli without eating eat than on the conversation, the Maddies looked bored to death, and Lexa wanted to either evaporate or turn into one of the kids. “And Lexa chose Clarke.”</p><p>“I’m never telling you anything again,” Lexa muttered, shaking her head, and as Raven patted her on the back comfortingly, Octavia picked up where she left off.</p><p>“She got upset, wanted to know how Lexa could decide so quickly. And Lexa told her that she had to come up with a harder choice.”</p><p>“That’s both brutal and sweet,” Ellie commented, glaring as her brother tossed broccoli onto her plate.</p><p>“That’s Lexa for you,” Octavia said, laughing and giving Raven a high-five.</p><p>“It’s great that this story has a happy ending,” Elizabeth said, sighing theatrically. “Imagine how silly all that choosing would be if you weren’t even dating.” Hannah snorted.</p><p>“Love is stupid.”</p><p>“Amen to that,” Elizabeth answered.</p><p>“I’m offended!” John cried, standing up, his wife trying to hide her smile. “Kate, aren’t you offended?”</p><p>“Totally,” she said in a deadpan, causing John to clutch at his chest in mock affront.</p><p>“How you wound me, wife,” he said, sitting back down. “Don’t you love me?” Kate laughed, kissing her husband briefly.</p><p>“Unfortunately, I do. Despite my best efforts otherwise.” Ellie pretended to gag, turning to stare at her phone determinedly, and Peter took advantage off everyone’s preoccupation to hand Lexa his plate so that she could take the rest of his broccoli off his hands. When he opened his mouth, Lexa shook her head and pressed her finger to her lips, and he nodded, saluted, and sat back down in his seat, eating his chicken dutifully.</p><p>“You’re corrupting my kids,” John muttered. “First with all the ‘love is bad’ talk and now this.”</p><p>“Your sisters are anti-love, not me.”</p><p>“She says that,” Carol laughed, “but she hates talking about the weather.”</p><p>“Hey. If John and Kate are kissing, you should too!” Elizabeth said, her words nearly incomprehensible due to all her laughing. “Isn’t that what happens in the movies?”</p><p>“See! I told you!” Carol said, pointing to Lexa.</p><p>“Is Maddie One using her plate as a pillow?”</p><p>“What—Madelyn, you can’t sleep at the dinner table!” Hannah got to her feet, gingerly picked her daughter up, staring at her mashed potato covered face with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, and carried her out of the dining room, Madison following her dutifully.</p><p>“Madelyn has an uncanny ability to sleep no matter where she is,” John explained, noting Lexa’s confusion. “She’s bored? She’s asleep.”</p><p>“I wish I had that,” Elizabeth muttered, and Abby rolled her eyes.</p><p>“You do. You just need alcohol for it to work.”</p><p>“If you’re going to make another comment about me not being married—”</p><p>“Lizzie, literally no one cares if you do or don’t have a husband,” John cut in, shaking his head. Elizabeth opened her mouth—clearly to argue some more—but Lexa had enough. The room was spinning just a tad, and she was afraid if she spent any more time with them, she’d become blackout drunk. She excused herself a little less than tactfully, and went straight to her and Clarke’s room (a room she often thought of using words like ‘our’ much to her own mortification).</p><p>She didn’t bother to change into more comfortable clothes before collapsing on the bed, taking a deep breath, glad that for a moment, she was safe. (Safe from Carol’s knowing looks, but especially safe from Clarke—Clarke’s blue eyes, Clarke’s excessive thoughtfulness, Clarke’s apologetic smile, Clarke, Clarke, Clarke.)</p><p>She wasn’t quite sure how long she stayed like that before the door opened and Clarke walked in, a cup of tea in her hand. Lexa sat up, surprised when Clarke held the tea out to her. “You’ll need it,” she said with a grin. “It helps me anyway.”</p><p>“I’m not drunk.”</p><p>“No, of course not.” Lexa stared at Clarke for a moment then took the tea with narrowed eyes. She sipped at it as Clarke came to sit next to her, their backs against the headboard, shoulders brushing, legs stretched out in front of them.</p><p>“I think John knows.”</p><p>“Nah. He’s just weird.”</p><p>“At least Abby remains fooled.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Clarke.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I didn’t break up with her because of you.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“It does. Because I don’t want you to think—”</p><p>“—that you think of me that way.”</p><p>“What? No. That’s not it.”</p><p>“It’s really fine.”</p><p>“No, Clarke, listen. I didn’t break up with her because of you. I broke up with her because she didn’t get it. Because I didn’t get it.”</p><p>“Didn’t get what?”</p><p>“I never liked Finn, did you know that?” Clarke leaned her head on Lexa shoulder, letting out a soft laugh.</p><p>“Yeah. You didn’t try to hide it.”</p><p>“It wasn’t because I was jealous. It was because he wasn’t good enough.”</p><p>“Lexa—”</p><p>“And that’s why I broke up with her,” she said, setting the now empty teacup aside, leaning into Clarke. “She tried to make me choose. She wasn’t good enough.”</p><p>“You’re drunk, and I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”</p><p>“I’m still angry with you.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“It’s hard to remember why sometimes.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Lexa. I’ll remind you. Even if you were willing to let me off the hook, I wouldn’t let you.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Her head ached, and the Maddies were loud.</p><p>“Lexa! Tell Madison I’m not out.”</p><p>“She’s not out, Maddie.”</p><p>“But Lexa, she’s cheating!”</p><p>“Maddie, stop cheating.”</p><p>“Yeah, Madelyn. Stop cheating.” Maddie One stared at Maddie Two and picked up a handful of checker pieces, and ran. Lexa watched them chase each other from the porch, grateful for the hot chocolate in her hands, wishing she hadn’t offered to watch the twins and that she’d at least thought to grab a thicker coat. She looked up when the door to the kitchen slid open, and Octavia stepped out, a small smile on her face. Lexa sighed, settled further into her seat, and kept her eyes focused on the two girls still chasing each other and laughing.</p><p>“I get the sense," Octavia said slowly, sitting down next to her, "that you're still mad.”</p><p>"Your sense would be right."</p><p>"Yeah." Octavia sighed, leaning forward, elbows on her knees, eyes determinedly following the Maddies. For whatever reason, this was the final straw, this was the tipping point, the ounce that broke the camel’s back.</p><p>"Did it ever occur to you," Lexa asked hotly, ignoring Octavia's melancholy, "that I was your friend too? That I deserved better?"</p><p>"Lexa, that—"</p><p>"Did you even pause, hesitate for a second, when Clarke told you guys to choose? Did I even register?"</p><p>"You think Clarke sat us down and told us it was you or her?"</p><p>"Raven said she forced you—"</p><p>"Forced us, yeah. But not the way you're thinking." She turned, no longer pretending she had any interest in watching two girls run around in circles.</p><p>"What are you talking about?"</p><p>"After you moved out, do you remember how Clarke was?"</p><p>"Oh god, not this again." Lexa made to stand, but Octavia grabbed her arm.</p><p>"Listen to me! Do you remember?"</p><p>"Yes! Okay? Yes, I remember." And she did. She remembered every detail. (She remembered their fight as she left, remembered the silence that followed, remembered that they’d just begun to heal their rift when September rolled around—when things fell apart and the distance between them became insurmountable.)</p><p>"For two weeks, Raven and I tried everything. But we couldn't snap her out of it."</p><p>"This isn't an issue anymore."</p><p>"No, it's always been the issue! You want to know why I didn't hesitate? This is why."</p><p>"Don't. Don't try to pin it all on me. Don't try to turn it around—"</p><p>"You moved out and Clarke broke down," Octavia said, talking over Lexa's protests. "And fucking Finn was there, putting all these shitty ideas in her head, and Clarke, she didn't have a choice but to believe him."</p><p>"That's crap and you know it."</p><p>"If you had just talked to her, from day one, instead of throwing up walls, all this could have been avoided."</p><p>"Octavia, shut up."</p><p>"If you weren't closed off, so guarded and distant, Clarke wouldn't have had any doubts for Finn to exploit."</p><p>"I said shut up."</p><p>"If you told her you moved out not because you wanted to leave her, but because it was <em>killing</em>you to be near her and not with her, she wouldn't have fallen apart."</p><p>"I mean it, that's enough."</p><p>"If you had just told her you loved her—" But Lexa didn't let her finish. She snatched her arm out of Octavia's grasp, leaning forward threateningly.</p><p>"You don't get to do that. You don't get to use my feelings for Clarke against me. You don't."</p><p>"What’s wrong with you?" Octavia demanded, looking unperturbed by Lexa's anger. If anything, she looked fed up, looked frustrated. (And Lexa’s anger was quickly falling away, fading and being replaced by something she couldn't name.)</p><p>"You don’t get to make it out that my feelings for her are what led to all this." Despite herself, her voice came out small, soft, vulnerable. But Octavia didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, didn’t seem to care.</p><p>"Lexa, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying telling her—"</p><p>"—is not happening. You hear me? No one is saying anything.”</p><p>"So what?” she snapped. “You’ll just keep it to yourself forever?" Octavia shook her head, eying Lexa oddly. "What’re you so <em>afraid</em>of?" Lexa swallowed and moved away, shrugging helplessly.</p><p>"I don’t know." For a second they were silent, and then Octavia took a deep breath, a shaky breath—like she was steeling herself.</p><p>“I know I sound like a jerk. I know you’re angry with me, and I know I deserve it. But I’m trying to help.”</p><p>“How? How is this helping?”</p><p>“Everyone is walking on eggshells around you. Clarke, Bell, even Raven. No one’s going to tell you the truth. It’s all analogy and subtext and insinuations it’s stupid.”</p><p>“So what’s the truth? Huh, Octavia?”</p><p>“You want something to happen? Just fucking tell her how you feel.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: I'm wayyy too impatient for this whole one chapter a day thing. I should just post the rest at once yeah?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was fuming.</p><p>She watched as the Maddies ran around, torn between telling them to scram so that she could handle Octavia or just walk away and ignore Octavia and the Maddies entirely.</p><p>“Lexa. Please, say something,” Octavia said, stepping closer to her. Lexa shook her head.</p><p>“Get the hell away from me.” She wanted to say more—she probably would have said more—but the door slid open and Carol stepped out onto the porch, her eyes narrowed, hands held up in surrender.</p><p>“I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t really care. I’m just here to prevent any bloodshed.”</p><p>“You wanted to kick someone out, Mrs. Griffin? Kick her out. Her and her stupid opinions.”</p><p>“Now, I don’t—”</p><p>“Stupid? You’re just upset that someone is telling you how it is,” Octavia hissed, throwing up her hands.</p><p>“All right, perhaps—”</p><p>“Telling me how it is? Blaming everything on me is telling me how it is? Clarke listening to <em>Finn</em>is my fault? You siding with Clarke without even knowing what happened is <em>my</em>fault?”</p><p>“Lexa, no—”</p><p>“I never said that! Or I did, but that’s not what I meant!” Octavia shouted back, ignoring Carol’s protests. “Clarke could never think clearly when it came to you. Never. And Finn was trying to win her back and he thought he could do that by making her doubt you and—”</p><p>“And what? She needed you there? To make her think for herself? Please, we’re talking about Clarke.”</p><p>“We are talking about Clarke, a Clarke who was heartbroken after you left, who was willing to listen to fucking <em>Finn</em>of all people.”</p><p>“So it’s okay that you abandoned me after September, because you were there to make sure no one put poisonous thoughts into Clarke’s head. That’s what you’re trying to say, right?” She stepped forward, staring Octavia down. “She needed your protection. You needed to make sure she didn’t fall apart. That’s fine, that’s good. You were being a good friend. But only to Clarke.”</p><p>“Lexa, I—”</p><p>“I’ve had enough,” Lexa said quietly, leaning forward, not letting Octavia break eye contact. “I’ve had enough of your shit.” She could see Carol in the corner of her vision, so she clenched her hands into fists, resisting the urge to hit Octavia. “Moving out was the right choice for me. I may not have gone about it the right way, but it was the right choice <em>for me</em>.” She took a deep breath and leaned away, forcing herself to take a step back. “As for what happened to Finn, it wasn’t my fault. It <em>wasn’t</em>. And you can say that you left me because Clarke needed you more. But you’re lying to yourself.” Lexa crossed her arms over her chest, raising her chin, back straight and stiff. “You have a lot of making up to do, Octavia Blake. And this half-assed attempt to get me and Clarke together just isn’t going to cut it.”</p><p>“Girls, I think this has gone far enough,” Carol interjected quietly. Lexa stared at her and nodded. “Octavia, take Madelyn and Madison inside, will you?” Octavia, who’d been staring at Lexa in silent shock, looked surprised for a moment before nodding and immediately doing as she was told. When they were finally alone, Carol let out a soft laugh. “Well, you really showed her, didn’t you?”</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin—”</p><p>“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s about time.” She grinned, tilting her head to the side. “But…I think I owe Octavia a gift basket or something.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“Well it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Lexa blinked, letting out a sigh and collapsing into one of the chairs.</p><p>“Maybe to you. But for those of us who are a bit slower on the uptake…” She trailed off, giving Carol a significant look.</p><p>“Lexa, let me ask you this. What do you think your problem is?”</p><p>“I don’t have a problem.” Carol raised her eyebrows, and Lexa felt herself deflate. “Fine. I don’t know. Anger issues?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Anger management issues?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin, just tell me. This could last all day.”</p><p>“Since the accident, you’ve let everyone walk all over you.” Lexa felt her mouth fall open, immediately shaking her head in denial. But Carol wasn’t done. “You have. You’ve let Clarke treat you terribly, you forgave your friends rather quickly even though they mistreated you, you came <em>here</em>. Do you understand? You said yes to Clarke when she asked for your help even though she’d been ignoring you.”</p><p>“That’s not how it went.”</p><p>“But essentially, it is. When you first came here, I told you that you needed to grow a backbone, show some fire.”</p><p>“I remember.”</p><p>“Didn’t you wonder why? Didn’t you wonder what would make someone you just met say that?”</p><p>“I assumed it was your personality.”</p><p>“It was because you were <em>broken</em>, hun. You were beaten down. Do you know what it’s like to see that your own granddaughter has hurt someone so much that there’s literally no fight left?” Lexa swallowed, once again shaking her head.</p><p>“Clarke didn’t—”</p><p>“She <em>did</em>. She did. And she’s trying, she’s trying so hard to make up for her mistakes, but she’s terrible at it.”</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin—”</p><p>“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare defend her. I know everything. I talked to Clarke and I’ve talked to you, and I can easily fill in the gaps. She has abandonment issues, you have trust issues, and it’s all a mess.” She sat in the chair across from Lexa, reaching out to take her hand, squeezing it tightly. And Lexa could do nothing but stare, could do nothing but shake, could do nothing but sit. “Listen to me very carefully. I don’t agree with Octavia’s methods. But she did what I couldn’t do, what Clarke couldn’t do.”</p><p>“And what’s that?”</p><p>“She made you angry. And not just a little flare that spluttered out minutes later. She made you furious, filled you with justified anger that <em>lasted</em>. And you stood up for yourself.”</p><p>“She forced me to find my backbone. My fire. Etcetera.” Carol smiled, nodding.</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>“You should’ve yelled at me, Mrs. Griffin. Taken care of this ages ago.”</p><p>It was a weak joke, she knew that, Carol knew that, but they both laughed anyway. And Lexa felt her heart grow lighter. She’d always felt a certain fondness for the older woman. In many ways, Carol had basically taken Lexa under her wing, had provided a sense of stability and safety and shielded her from the full brunt of her own feelings. But now, sitting across from Carol, she felt more than fondness. There was genuine affection, a sense that Carol Griffin truly did think of her as family, truly did mean it when she offered Lexa a place on her couch.</p><p>“I don’t have the heart to yell at you,” Carol said, grinning, patting Lexa’s hand. “I thought that if I pushed you, though, if I said at it again and again, you’d get the hint. But…” She shrugged, getting to her feet.</p><p>“Why did Clarke really ask me here?”</p><p>“Ask her.”</p><p>“She won’t tell me. And she won’t tell me why she wishes I’d just say the safe word and leave.” Carol pressed her lips into a thin smile, shrugging again.</p><p>“Come on. Just fill in the gaps.”</p><p>“I don’t trust that I know her anymore.”</p><p>“You just got your backbone back. Don’t go wimpy on me now.” Lexa nodded, watched as Carol headed towards the door, calling out to her before she was gone.</p><p>“Thank you. For everything.” It wasn’t enough, wasn’t nearly enough, to express what Lexa really meant. But Carol nodded, clearly understanding anyway.</p><p>“He would’ve loved you. James. He would’ve really loved you.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“Are you my new cousin?” Peter asked, grabbing hold of Lexa’s hand, tugging on it.</p><p>“Are you an evil mutant?” His eyes narrowed, as if he was sure this was a trick question.</p><p>“No, but I want to be.”</p><p>“Just hand me another ornament.” He complied, digging through the box and handing her another handmade ornament from Clarke’s childhood, something Clarke had repeatedly said she wished she burned ages ago. “So in my family, we put up the tree the beginning of December. There’s only ten days left till Christmas. Why are you guys so late?”</p><p>“Mom didn’t want to celebrate Christmas here this year, since the house was being sold,” Hannah explained, grabbing Peter and pulling him away from Lexa. “But she changed her mind.”</p><p>“I thought the sale would be finalized before Christmas.”</p><p>“Well, about that…” John trailed off, looking over at the kitchen where Abby and Carol and Elizabeth were chatting. “She’s pushed that back too. Till after New Year’s I think.”</p><p>“What’s that mean?” Lexa asked, frowning, her arms dropping to her sides. Clarke hung a candy cane on the tree, another one sticking out of her mouth.</p><p>“She wants us here longer. Something about spending time together as a family.” When Clarke noticed Lexa’s shocked look, she held up her hands. “She knows you have to leave in five days, Lexa, don’t worry.”</p><p>“I’d be worried,” John muttered. “She told me and Kate that our vacation plans weren’t important and we had no choice but to stay.”</p><p>“She told me that she didn’t care if I had to get back to work soon, family was more important,” Hannah added, once again tugging Peter away from Lexa. “Control your son, John.”</p><p>“What? The boy’s smart. He knows who to be friends with. Not the future doctor of the family and the cousin he’s known his entire life, but the cousin’s girlfriend.” When Hannah just shot him a dirty look, he sighed and shook his head. “Pete, go find your mom and sister. Tell them they can’t hide away. Being with family means actually hanging out with family. Unfortunately,” he tacked on, grunting in mock pain when Hannah punched his shoulder.</p><p>“Do you think Mrs. Griffin doesn’t want to sell the house?” John, who’d been watching his son race up the stairs, turned to Lexa with a laugh.</p><p>“Are you kidding? You’ve spent so much quality time with her and you don’t know?”</p><p>“We don’t talk about this stuff,” Lexa defended, but Hannah waved off John’s response. Clarke, who’d been hanging ornaments without speaking, moved away from the tree and collapsed on the couch, sucking on her candy cane.</p><p>“Mom never wanted to sell the house,” Hannah explained, her eyes slightly narrowing when Lexa gave up on the tinsel and went to join Clarke on the couch. “I think this ‘final gathering’ thing is her way of pushing one of us to take it.”</p><p>“Why don’t any of you want it? The memories you must have had here…” Lexa trailed off, not knowing how to explain herself. Clarke, however, snorted.</p><p>“The memories are the problem,” she said, avoiding her John and Hannah’s eyes, staring only at Lexa. “There’s a scratch by the doorway that my dad made when he and Uncle John threw a football back and forth and knocked over a lamp.” She cleared her throat, licked her lips, and her fingers idly tapped against her knee. “Or the broken branch on the oak outside, where me, dad, and Grandpa James tried to set up a swing, and I broke my arm. Or that spot on the porch where Grandpa James would sit and drink a beer whenever one of his teams would lose. Or our closet upstairs, where I used to hide when I played hide and go seek with Ellie and Aunt Lizzie and my dad, where I hid so that no one could take me to my dad’s funeral.” She bit her lip, still only staring at Lexa. “Funny how good memories turn into bad ones.”</p><p>“Clarke…” Lexa began, reaching out to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. She expected Clarke to accept the wordless comfort she offered, but she didn’t expect Clarke to wordlessly ask for more—for her to lean into Lexa, silently seeking a sense of security. Lexa held onto her, acutely aware of John and Hannah’s eyes on them.</p><p>“You’ve been here for what? Nine days now?” John asked, looking at Lexa for confirmation. She nodded, holding tighter onto Clarke, allowing her to hide her face in Lexa’s shirt, hide the wetness that was coming from her eyes. “So you’ve learned a bit about the Griffins, right?”</p><p>“I suppose so.”</p><p>“You know about our hatred of dealing with our own feelings,” Hannah pointed out, holding up a finger.</p><p>“She has to know about our stubbornness, Clarke’s been her friend for years,” John added, and Hannah grinned as she held up a second finger.</p><p>“Right. And we all have a slight penchant for alcohol. No big deal.” She held up a third finger.</p><p>“She knows all about the Griffin love for baking. I mean, I think I’ve had more cake in the last two days than I’ve had in the past six months.” Hannah laughed, holding up a fourth finger.</p><p>“There’s one more,” Hannah said, pretending to think. Her glasses were perched at the very tip of her nose, and her eyes gleamed as she stared directly at Lexa. “Oh. And there are no secrets in the Griffin family.”</p><p>“None,” John agreed somberly. “For example, Hannah tried to keep Trevor a secret, and obviously, we all know.” Hannah’s nose wrinkled in distaste.</p><p>“Trevor the bastard.”</p><p>“Relax, Hannah. We’ll get to your problems later.” John turned back to Lexa and Clarke, Clarke who was still pressed up against Lexa and refusing to look at her aunt and uncle. She was shaking. “Now. Let’s all be adults and be honest here, okay? Just admit you two aren’t dating and Hannah and I can settle our bet and we all leave happily.”</p><p>“John thinks you two never dated at all,” Hannah clarified helpfully, crossing her arms over her chest as Lexa’s mouth fell open. “I think you must have dated for a while and broke up or something. So which is it?” Lexa opened and closed her mouth helplessly, unsure how to reply, when Clarke pulled away from her. She was still shaking, but no longer from sobs as Lexa had assumed—but from laughter. (There were tears in her eyes, tears she hastily wiped away, but a smile was on her face, a smile that made Lexa smile right back.)  </p><p>“I knew you knew,” she said, shaking her head. She didn’t move away from Lexa, not really. They were still touching, hands still clasped together, and Lexa didn’t understand why—why they were so close when there was no one to fool?</p><p>“Of course we knew. So which is it? Never dated at all or broke up? Hannah’s right. You two act way too lovey-dovey not to have dated at least for a while.”</p><p>“No, never dated,” Lexa supplied, sitting up straight. “So literally Abby is the only one who doesn’t know?”</p><p>“That’s good, though. It’s why you came.” Clarke grinned at Lexa, and Lexa rolled her eyes. She and Clarke got up to go to the kitchen—wanting to seek refuge from Hannah’s knowing looks and John’s knowing smile—but were unable to escape before hearing the last of John and Hannah’s comments.</p><p>“Twenty bucks says they’ll be dating this time next week.”</p><p>“You’re on. It’ll happen way before then.”</p><p>“They don’t mean it,” Clarke said, pulling Lexa to a stop, pushing her into the hallway, hiding them from view. “They have no idea what they’re talking about.”</p><p>“What if I’m not convincing enough? What if your mom figures it out because I messed up somehow? Clarke, they <em>all</em>know.”</p><p>“Aunt Lizzie must have told them. It’s not a big deal, really.”</p><p>“But it <em>is</em>. What will your mom do? If she thinks you’re not okay?”</p><p>“I am okay.”</p><p>“Clarke—”</p><p>“Lexa, I <em>am</em>okay. Okay?” Lexa hung her head, surprised when Clarke stepped forward, pulling her into a hug.</p><p>“I came here to help you. And if I’m not even helping you…why am I here?”</p><p>“Lexa, it’s fine.”</p><p>“I fought with Octavia this morning.” Clarke didn’t say anything, so she continued. “I told Mrs. Griffin to kick her out.”</p><p>“Why? What did she do?”</p><p>“She said some things that were unfair.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Aren’t you going to ask me what she said?” Lexa asked, pulling away to look Clarke in the eyes.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I’m mad at her,” Lexa admitted, letting out a sigh. Clarke took a step back, leaning against the opposite wall, a contemplative look on her face.</p><p>“I could ask her to leave.”</p><p>“You said you’d never take sides when it came to your friends.” Clarke smiled bitterly in response.</p><p>“I haven’t been very good with that, have I?” She took a deep breath and shrugged. “Besides, Octavia’s my friend, but you’re my best friend and fake girlfriend. I have to have your back.”</p><p>“I’ll talk to her.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Clarke nodded, biting her lip as she did so.</p><p>“You have every right, you know. To be angry. With me, with Octavia, with the others. We all deserve it.” Lexa stared blankly at Clarke, not quite sure where she was going with this.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“She said none of us deserve you. And she’s right.”</p><p>“Why did you ask me here, Clarke?”</p><p>“Why did you say yes?” Lexa crossed her arms, shaking her head.</p><p>“You’ll have to tell me eventually, you know,” she muttered, annoyed with Clarke’s stubbornness. Clarke smiled and shocked Lexa again by stepping forward and pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek.</p><p>“I know,” she said, grabbing Lexa’s hand and dragging her towards the kitchen.</p><p>And, all the way, Lexa’s hand burned and her cheek tingled.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“They don’t deserve me, huh?” Lexa said, grinning, watching Carol puzzle over the crossword.</p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“Admit it. Admit you told Clarke that.” There was a loud round of laughter, and Lexa turned around, frowning at Abby, Elizabeth, and Kate, all of whom were holding a glass of wine. “They’re drunk, aren’t they?” Carol looked up in disinterest.</p><p>“Wait till we crack open the eggnog. All the juicy gossip comes out then.” She eyed Lexa before turning back to her crossword. “Where’s Clarke?”</p><p>“Upstairs. Studying.”</p><p>“Why do you never study?”</p><p>“Because I have nothing I’m trying to avoid down here. Except for John. And Peter. I don’t like kids.” Carol chuckled.</p><p>“Oh, come on now. You and I both know that Peter’s more mature than his father.” She penciled something in as she spoke, grinning. “The kids like you. Ellie, Peter, the twins. That’s good. They’re the hardest to win over.”</p><p>“Really? The kids are?”</p><p>“Oh yeah. You won John over with your sarcasm. Hannah likes your standoffishness—I tried explaining you were just awkward, but she wasn’t listening. Lizzie thinks you’re practically an angel. And Abby loved you before Clarke loved you. But the kids? You had to fight for their affection with Monopoly and fake revolutions.”</p><p>“What about you, Mrs. Griffin?”</p><p>“I don’t like it when people fish for compliments, that’s for sure.” </p><p>“I have to leave in five days.”</p><p>“I’m still not giving you a compliment.”</p><p>“That’s not what I meant.” Carol nodded, setting her pencil down and staring at Lexa with a frown.</p><p>“I know what you meant.” She leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know what you want from me, though.”</p><p>“Your advice. What should I do?”</p><p>“I don’t think I can answer that for you.”</p><p>“You’ve been answering it for me this entire time.” Carol laughed and nodded.</p><p>“Yes, but it was different before. You two were tangled and messy and broken. I did what I could. I untangled you, brushed you off. Now it’s up to you two to see if what you have can be fixed.”</p><p>“What would you do?”</p><p>“Nice try, hun,” Carol said, snorting. “But I’m not giving you any answers.”</p><p>“You’re not selling the house anymore, are you?” Carol looked taken aback for only a moment.</p><p>“No,” she answered honestly, her blue eyes boring into Lexa’s.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“My family is broken. They need to stick together for a while and heal.” Lexa didn’t respond and Carol sighed, elaborating. “John is broken up over losing his father. Hannah’s marriage fell apart, Lizzie just lost her job.” She laughed mirthlessly. “Then there’s Clarke and Abby and you. My family is a mess right now.”</p><p>“But won’t it be hard? Clarke says good memories turn into bad ones.” Carol pursed her lips, motioning for Lexa to come closer.</p><p>“I used to think life without James would be impossible. But look! He’s gone and my heart’s still beating, my lungs keep expanding. I’m alive even though sometimes I feel I shouldn’t be, not without him, anyway.”</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin—”</p><p>“Good memories are good memories, even if you’re sad about them.” She patted Lexa’s cheek and picked up her pencil. “She does deserve you, you know,” she said, not looking at Lexa, eyes focused on the crossword.</p><p>“You never said it.”</p><p>“No. Trust me, hun, Clarke could give you a run for your money in the self-doubt and self-hatred and self-blame department.”</p><p>“I have to leave in five days.”</p><p>“You won me over with your kindness and patience and your astounding capacity to forgive.”</p><p>“That’s not what I meant.”</p><p>“I know what you meant. But I wanted to make sure you don’t leave without me telling you that.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Dinner was less chaotic than the night before.</p><p>John, Hannah, and Elizabeth had gone out with their families (Elizabeth loudly mentioning she didn’t have a family because she didn’t <em>want</em>one), Abby went up to bed early, Octavia was sullen (forcing Lexa to resolve to talk to her soon), Raven and Carol had a riveting discussion about knitting, and Clarke and Lexa spent the entirety of dinner kicking each other under the table, throwing pieces of dinner rolls at each other’s faces.</p><p>And when they went to bed, hours later, rather than rigidly lay on her side, hoping she wouldn’t brush against Clarke at all, Lexa shifted so that she was facing her.</p><p>“If I play my cards right, I definitely think I could get Mrs. Griffin to adopt me by the end of all this.”</p><p>“She probably drew up the paperwork already,” Clarke said, shifting so that she was on her side as well. “It’ll be your Christmas present.”</p><p>“Clarke, about the memory thing—”</p><p>“We don’t have to talk about it,” Clarke sighed, about to turn away. She paused when Lexa reached out and grabbed her hand. </p><p>“We don’t have to. But we should.”</p><p>“It’s fine. I’m fine.”</p><p>“You’re fine. But if you’re not…that’s fine too.” Clarke stared at her, her blue eyes narrowed.</p><p>“We’ll play a game. You tell me something and I’ll tell you something.”</p><p>“You start.”</p><p>“I made up the game.”</p><p>“I got us talking in the first place!”</p><p>“Fine! Okay. Ask me.”</p><p>“Are you fine?” Clarke let Lexa play with her fingers, her eyes moving to watch, and she almost unknowingly shifted closer.</p><p>“No. I don’t think I am. But I’m getting better.”</p><p>“Promise?”</p><p>“It’s my turn.” Lexa swallowed, wondering when Clarke had gotten so close.</p><p>“Okay.” Lexa hated that the single word came out shaky.</p><p>“If you were drunk and I were drunk, would you sleep on the ground?”</p><p>“Are you drunk?” Lexa asked, and she was sure that Clarke hadn’t been this close just moments ago, she was <em>sure</em>.</p><p>“No. Are you?”</p><p>“No,” Lexa found herself whispering, and it would be easy, so easy, to give in. Clarke was barely centimeters away, her eyes were dark, and for the first time, Lexa didn’t want to over think or wonder or examine. She just wanted to <em>do</em>. She wanted to close that last bit of distance, wanted to feel Clarke’s lips against her own, wanted to know if she still tasted like the candy cane she’d been eating that afternoon. She wanted, wanted, wanted. And though she was sure Clarke may have wanted it too, all she could think about was Clarke’s comment days earlier. <em>I do things I shouldn’t do</em>. “Are you sad?” Lexa found herself asking, and the moment, that charge between them, was broken even if the distance between them didn’t change.</p><p>“Yes. Are you?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Clarke nodded, but didn’t move away and didn’t advance further, and Lexa followed her lead.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“Octavia, want to take a walk?”</p><p>“With you? Alone? No. Who’d find my dead body?” Clarke, who’d been staring not so subtly at them from over her coffee cup, nodded encouragingly, and Octavia sighed. “I’ll have you know,” she muttered as she grabbed her jacket and followed Lexa outside, “I took karate classes when I was a kid.” Lexa didn’t respond. She merely stuffed her hands into her pockets, heading towards the bench she’d somehow come to think of her and Clarke’s bench. “If you’re bringing me all the way out here to make sure no one hears my screams—”</p><p>“—you were right,” Lexa interrupted, clearing her throat and coming to a stop. Octavia studied her in confusion.</p><p>“No, I wasn’t,” she said, her confusion morphing into a deep frown. “I was being an asshole—”</p><p>“No one will argue with you there. But you’re an asshole who made a few good points.”</p><p>“Lexa—”</p><p>“I’m glad you chose Clarke after I moved out. I’m glad you were there. I shouldn’t have just left, and Finn…he could be persuasive. So yeah, I’m glad you were there.”</p><p>“But…?” Octavia prompted, and Lexa rolled her eyes as she sat down on the bench.</p><p>“But after the accident, you were wrong. You shouldn’t have assumed the worst. You should’ve have sided with Clarke when you didn’t even know what had happened. You should have been a better friend.”</p><p>“I don’t know how to apologize, make up for it.”</p><p>“But I do,” Lexa said, and she paused, thinking through her words as carefully as she could. “I do want something to happen with Clarke. I do. But she has abandonment issues and I have trust issues and we’re broken.” She smiled lightly. “It’s up to us to see if what we have can be fixed.”</p><p>“So what do you want from me?”</p><p>“Stay out of it. Completely. Don’t try to help, don’t offer your opinions, don’t interfere.”</p><p>“That doesn’t nearly make up for it. That’s nothing.”</p><p>“I know. Which is why this is just the beginning. You’re going to be indebted to me for a while.” Octavia laughed and sat down next to her, shaking her head.</p><p>“I’m a shitty friend,” she said, shrugging helplessly. “I deserve at least a punch or something from you. Just…not the face, okay?”</p><p> “Just because you were a shitty friend for the last few months doesn’t mean you’ve always been a shitty friend. But I mean, if you want me to punch you…” She raised her eyebrows, and after a moment, they both began to laugh. It was awkward, it was strange, but it was a start. There was a reason why Octavia was her friend. She was fiercely loyal, astonishingly kind, and quick to come to the defense of those who needed her. And if Octavia could forgive her for having a fit for stealing her notes, or for telling Clarke that she had a crush on the girl who’d later be in their Economics class, or even for something as silly as not having lunch with her as promised (though it was likely all three), then Lexa could forgive Octavia for having a lapse in judgment.</p><p>“You’re doing better,” Octavia commented as she stared at the ground, breaking the comfortable silence that settled between them.</p><p>“Didn’t you hear? I got my backbone and fire back.”</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: I feel so sorry for those who are subscribed for my supergirl stuff and who keep getting the update emails about this fic. it's almost over!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t easy.</p><p>Something had shifted, changed, erupted, exploded, and it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy to walk past her and not get a strange fluttering in her chest when she smiled; it wasn’t easy to brush her, even just lightly, and not feel a thrill go through her spine; it wasn’t easy to ignore her sweaty palms or sudden inability to string more than two words together in a coherent sentence whenever she asked her something.</p><p>It wasn’t easy.</p><p>All she felt was the pounding of her heart, the heat in her veins, the sense of wholeness in her very bones. She thrummed with the energy, focused it all at a single point, and felt <em>alive</em>, alive, alive.</p><p>It wasn’t easy because, for the first time, she believed Raven’s assurances, Carol’s protests, Abby’s frank comments. It wasn’t easy because where there was once a wall—a certainty that she was doomed to fruitlessly offer up her limitless energy source to something that would guzzle away wastefully—there was now nothing but opportunity. It was a wide, gaping, door, and it called to her, and she went to it like a moth to a flame.</p><p>It was no longer easy to put her desires on hold, to pull herself back, to throw up a wall and merely bear the pain, because she knew—beyond a shadow of a doubt, she <em>knew</em>—there was a chance. There was hope. There was <em>something</em>there. (And she wanted it.)</p><p>When she and Octavia returned from their ‘walk,’ the kitchen was empty except for Clarke, who was still sipping at her coffee, reading a book at the table. Octavia looked at Lexa briefly, let out a dramatic sigh, and without a single word, left them alone. And Lexa, Lexa walked over to Clarke, and pressed a quick kiss to Clarke’s cheek before resting her chin on Clarke’s shoulder (even though they were alone, even though there was no reason for it, even though she could practically hear Clarke’s mind whirring away, trying to puzzle out her strange behavior).</p><p>“How’d the talk go?” she asked, flipping the page calmly, her free hand reaching out to grab Lexa’s, clearly not wanting to question the out of character display of affection.</p><p>“I hate talking about my feelings.”</p><p>“So it was awkward?”</p><p>“So awkward.” Clarke laughed and she turned to look at Lexa, the angle strange, their faces far too close.</p><p>“Did you two make up or…?”</p><p>“We have an understanding.”</p><p>“Did you threaten bodily harm?”</p><p>“No. She offered to let me hit her, though.”</p><p>“Yeah, we all owe you that, I think.” Lexa frowned and pulled away, her heart skipping a beat when she caught the look of disappointment on Clarke’s face before she was able to mask it.</p><p>“Look, you have to stop that.”</p><p>“Stop what?”</p><p>“That kicked puppy routine.” When Clarke looked vaguely offended, Lexa held up her hands. “I don’t mean…I know you’re sorry. I know you regret everything that happened. But if we’re going to get over everything…you need to stop with the apologizing and the putting yourself down.”</p><p>“So don’t blame myself?”</p><p>“Exactly.” Clarke gave her a look, a mix between exasperation and amusement and fondness and all Lexa could think about was that it was a mess.</p><p>“Hi pot, I’m kettle,” she deadpanned after a short pause, raising her eyebrows.   </p><p>“Then we both stop it. We both made mistakes—though, <em>some</em>are considerably larger than others.” She gave Clarke a significant look, and Clarke rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Oh, ha. You made your point.”</p><p>“No, I didn’t. That was just a dig.” She grinned, and Clarke shook her head and rolled her eyes once more. “My <em>point</em>is that it’s time to move on. Move ahead. Get over what happened.”</p><p>“If this is your way of saying you forgive me, Lexa, I swear I’ll hit you. I haven’t earned your—”</p><p>“—shut up,” Lexa interrupted, and she stepped forward again, staring Clarke down, invading her personal space. “I didn’t say anything about forgiveness. I’m saying it’s time to heal, so we can get to forgiveness eventually.”</p><p>“Eventually?”</p><p>“Yeah, a few months, years, decades from now. No big deal.” This got a laugh out of Clarke, and she leaned her forehead against Lexa’s, her eyes closed (hiding the blue, the blue that Lexa fell in love with, the blue that so stood out on that cold, wet, miserable sort of day in the middle of finals).</p><p>“Uncle John says that my mom is worried. She wanted to know if it was normal for a couple to visit family and not try to get away at least once.”</p><p>“We went to the grocery store. And to the Greenes.”</p><p>“I don’t think those count. Aunt Hannah says we should throw my mom off by going out for lunch today.” Lexa’s eyes narrowed, and Clarke’s were still closed.</p><p>“That sounds more like a Mrs. Griffin nefarious plot to me. Get us out on a fake date.”</p><p>“We are supposedly fake dating.” Lexa snorted, her hand going up to play with a lock of Clarke’s hair. Her eyes opened, and Lexa felt her breath hitch at the sight of the ocean of blue.</p><p>“So,” she said, trying to hide her smile. “Want to go out on a fake date with me?”</p><p>“If I <em>have</em>to.” Lexa was about to respond, but just then, Carol walked in—making Lexa and Clarke jump back in surprise—her eyes widening when she saw them standing so close. </p><p>“Hey!” she shouted dramatically. “No PDA in my kitchen!” She grinned, paused, and then leaned forward. “I think we’re nailing this tricking Abby thing,” she faux-whispered. Clarke shook her head, her ears turning red, and she left without another word, leaving Lexa alone with Carol. “The fake date was my idea,” she immediately said, utterly proud of that fact.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“It’s brilliant, right? Because it’ll be a fake date that’s actually a real date.”</p><p>“But Clarke doesn’t know that, and I’m not telling her.” Carol groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead.</p><p>“And centuries later,” she said, deepening her voice, “Clarke and Lexa finally got their shit together long enough to admit how they really felt. Sadly, they were dead. Because literal <em>centuries</em>had passed.”</p><p>“I know you’re trying to tell me something, Mrs. Griffin, but all I heard was you saying the word ‘shit.’” </p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“You should wear something nicer,” Octavia said as Lexa sat down next to her on the couch. </p><p>“Shut up, Octavia. The deal was you stay out of it.”</p><p>“You should wear something nicer,” Raven said unhelpfully, giving Octavia a high five.</p><p>“Go bug Clarke.”</p><p>“Bugging Clarke is no fun. You’re at this acceptance stage, you know? But Clarke is just a bundle of nerves and talking to her is painful.” Lexa turned to Raven in surprise, for the first time, interested.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Clarke’s freaking out. Over analyzing everything, jealous of her own grandmother. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad,” Raven explained, causing Octavia to snort.</p><p>“It’s sad because Clarke is trudging through miles of denial and <em>Lexa won’t say anything</em>.”  </p><p>“It’s sad because Clarke’s still in denial,” Raven argued, rolling her eyes. “I suppose med schools accept just anyone these days.”</p><p>“You’re calling my fake girlfriend dense,” Lexa muttered, “and as a good fake girlfriend, I have to ask you to stop.”</p><p>“You couldn’t have put more bitterness in that statement if you tried,” Octavia said, shaking her head. “But I’m not allowed to be involved, so I won’t give my opinion.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“Can I give my opinion?” Raven asked. When Lexa shook her head, she let out a sigh. “You know, at least Clarke’s nervousness is entertaining.”</p><p>“It’s just a fake date,” Lexa said, but her own heart was pounding vigorously away.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>When they first became friends, Lexa wasn’t quite sure about quite a few of Clarke’s tells.</p><p>She knew that when it was cold, Clarke would bounce from foot to foot, rubbing her hands together, looking like an overexcited penguin. (When she mentioned she found it funny, Clarke began to do it more, making Lexa laugh as often as she could.)</p><p>She knew that when Clarke was nervous, she licked her lips again and again and kept her eyes on the ceiling, her fingers tapping incessantly against her thigh. (Lexa sometimes would grab Clarke’s hand, stilling it, just making Clarke tap her thigh with the other one.)</p><p>She knew that when Clarke got excited, her voice would increase in pitch and tempo, and she’d tap her finger against her nose in order to calm herself down. (Lexa took pictures of this, saved it as her wallpaper on her phone. Clarke claimed she hated it, though she never really tried all that hard to get Lexa to change the picture.)</p><p>The only time Lexa had seen all three of these happen at the same time was right before Clarke’s anatomy final.</p><p>“I think I’m going to ace it,” she said, bouncing from foot to foot, licking her lips, eyes on the ceiling, one hand tapping away at her thigh, the other at her nose.</p><p>“Do you?” Lexa asked with a laugh, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest in a fruitless attempt to stave off the cold, watching as other students shuffled into the lecture hall, looking grim and terrified. “Because you look like you just snorted something.”</p><p>“I studied for <em>weeks</em>,” Clarke muttered, ignoring Lexa’s joke. “I got this.”</p><p>“You got this,” Lexa said in agreement, and Clarke halted all her movements, her eyes focusing on Lexa, wide and full of panic.</p><p>“Will you be waiting?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“With coffee?”</p><p>“And a goddamn muffin, too.”</p><p>“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Clarke said, fingers tapping against her thigh once more.</p><p>“Probably fail at life.”</p><p>“I’m serious.”</p><p>“So am I.”</p><p>“I don’t want to go in,” she said softly, sounding terrified, her hands trembling just a tad. Lexa pushed off the wall and grabbed Clarke by the shoulders, shaking her gently.</p><p>“You’re going to ace it. You’ve studied for weeks. You’ve got this.” Clarke just stared at her. “Say it with me.”</p><p>“I’ve got this.”  </p><p>“Now go set the curve, you nerd.” Clarke nodded and Lexa dropped her hands, but before she could leave, Clarke grabbed her by the sleeve, her other hand clenched tightly into a fist (Lexa would later learn that Clarke did this when she was afraid).</p><p>“I was serious,” she said, shrugging crookedly, like her body was out of her control (<em>this</em>, Lexa would later learn, meant she was being sincere). “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”</p><p>“You’d ace your exam with or without me. Now go. I’ll be here in two hours, coffee and muffin in hand.” Clarke smiled, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, as if preparing for battle, for war, and not an exam.</p><p>“Movies and takeout after finals are over?” she asked, her eyes still closed. (Lexa would later learn that Clarke did this when she worried she was being too open—as if this could create some sort of physical wall, as if it kept her from being too vulnerable.)</p><p>“Name the time and place, nerd.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Three years later, and Clarke was laughing at Lexa’s sullenness as they waited at the line to the food truck.</p><p>“You never get to choose again,” Lexa muttered, shaking her head.</p><p>“Shut up, that was a good movie.”</p><p>“It was awful.”</p><p>“You were practically blubbering by the end. You liked it, just admit it.”</p><p>“No, it was terrible. I want my money back.” Clarke grabbed her hand.</p><p>“Hey. Do you know that girl?” Lexa frowned, and turned in the direction Clarke was looking. Standing a little way off was a girl who looked vaguely familiar. </p><p>“Nah.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yeah, why?”</p><p>“It’s just…she’s been staring at you since we got here.”</p><p>“I’m attractive, people stare.” Clarke turned to Lexa, a furrow between her brows.</p><p>“I see attractiveness and humility aren’t a package deal.”</p><p>“Are you saying I’m attractive?” Clarke snorted, turning back to stare at the girl.</p><p>“I’m not blind.”</p><p>“That’s not an answer.”</p><p>“Are you sure you don’t know her? She’s staring way too intently. It’s creepy.”</p><p>“Can we go back to the attractiveness thing? That was super important.”</p><p>“It doesn’t weird you out?” Clarke asked, only the red tinge to her ears letting Lexa know she heard Lexa’s comment.</p><p>“You sound jealous, Clarke.”</p><p>“Of you? Never.” Lexa looked over at the girl, and she chuckled, finally realizing why she seemed so familiar.</p><p>“That’s the super forward checkout girl.”</p><p>“What?” Clarke turned to Lexa in shock, not paying enough attention to order, forcing Lexa to do it for her. “Super forward who?”</p><p>“When Mrs. Griffin and I went shopping the other day. She works at the grocery store.”</p><p>“What did she say? How was she forward?” Lexa paid for their food and led Clarke to one of the tables, raising her eyebrows.</p><p>“You sound jealous, Clarke.”</p><p>“I’m worried. What if she’s a stalker?” </p><p>“Don’t worry, Mrs. Griffin set her straight.”</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“It means stop worrying, nerd.” Clarke—whose mouth was open as she sat down, clearly wanting to continue the interrogation—went silent, her eyes wide, licking her lips, fingers tapping away at her thigh.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I said stop worrying.”</p><p>“No, after that.” It took a second for Lexa to catch up, to realize her slip.</p><p>“It was an accident.”</p><p>“You said you haven’t forgiven me.”</p><p>“I haven’t.”</p><p>“Lexa.”</p><p>“I haven’t. It just slipped.”</p><p>“You’re not allowed. You can’t. You do this all the time, forgive me for all the shit I pull. But not this time. I won’t let you.”</p><p>“You can’t not let me do something, Clarke,” Lexa muttered, but Clarke’s hands were clenched, and she was shaking her head frantically.</p><p>“Lexa, you can’t. You don’t—I don’t…you <em>know</em>I haven’t deserved it yet. And I won’t deserve it for a long time. I left you, I hurt you, I—”</p><p>“—should let me decide for myself when it’s time to forgive you.”</p><p>“Lexa, I—”</p><p>“—should stop stressing about things you can’t control? Yes, I totally agree.” But rather than elicit a smile, the comment had the opposite effect. Clarke seemed even more determined to make her point.</p><p>“You’ll forgive me and then you’ll hate me again, and I can’t do it anymore, Lexa. I won’t.”</p><p>“We’re always going to fight, but I don’t hate you.”</p><p>“You will, though. Once you find out.”</p><p>“Find out what?” Clarke bit her lip, their food going ignored, both of them oblivious to the approach of the stalker checkout girl.</p><p>“When you find out I asked you—”</p><p>“Hi!” the checkout girl interrupted, smiling wide, shocking Lexa and Clarke into looking up at her. “You probably don’t remember me, but I was the cashier at the grocery store? When you and Mrs. Griffin talked about love?”</p><p>“Yeah, I don’t remember you,” Lexa said, wincing when she felt Clarke’s kick from under the table. <em>Be polite</em>, Clarke mouthed, and Lexa wanted to groan. “I mean, I remember you vaguely.”</p><p>“I just wanted to say,” the girl continued, turning to Clarke, “you’re really lucky. Everything she said was so beautiful. My boyfriend’s not nearly as poetic.” Clarke snorted.</p><p>“Lexa’s not poetic,” she said, laughing and totally missing the offended look on the girl’s face. “She’s like…if bluntness and abrasiveness met and had a child, Lexa would be the result.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you two were dating,” the girl said, her tone suggesting she was not sorry at all. In fact, she seemed a little mad.</p><p>“Oh, we are,” Lexa said, raising an eyebrow at Clarke’s continued laughter and snorts of ‘poetic.’ “Clarke’s just a terrible date.”</p><p>“Apparently,” the girl muttered. The single word brought an abrupt halt to all of Clarke’s laughter, and without warning, she leaned forward, grabbed Lexa by the collar, and pressed their lips together.</p><p> Lexa’s brain couldn’t even begin to process what was happening, her heart’s beat turned into something erratic and nonsensical—almost as if it too had been caught by surprise, it too had no idea what was going on and was struggling to react. But her hands went up to cradle Clarke’s face, pressing even further forward. But her lips moved against Clarke’s, her fingers brushed lightly over Clarke’s cheeks and then down to her neck before ending up tangled in her hair. Her brain had short-circuited, her heart had spluttered and fluttered to a stop, her lungs forgot they had a job to do, but her lips and hands—her lips and hands had <em>longed</em>and <em>craved</em>a moment like this, and now that they had it, they capitalized on it.</p><p>The kiss couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds, but when they pulled apart—Clarke looking dazed and Lexa feeling dazed—the girl was nowhere to be seen.</p><p>“You kissed me. That makes two times,” Lexa said just a tad breathlessly, giving Clarke a look.</p><p>“Well, now we’re even.”</p><p>“The two times I kissed you were different. The first was on a dare and…and the second we swore we’d never mention. You did it because you think I’m attractive. And you were jealous.” Clarke blushed, hiding it by digging into her lunch and avoiding Lexa’s eyes.</p><p>“You talked about love with my grandmother?” she asked pointedly.</p><p>“Don’t read too much into it, Mrs. Griffin also talks at length about baking, knitting, and crosswords. Now about that kiss.” Clarke closed her eyes, elbows on the table, head propped up on her hands.</p><p>“I was serious before. Don’t forgive me.” Lexa sighed, but realized Clarke was adamant—there would be no more discussion on the kiss.</p><p>“Tell me why you asked me here.” Clarke didn’t open her eyes.</p><p>“You’ll hate me.”</p><p>“You can’t keep it a secret forever.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Then why hide it at all?” Clarke opened her eyes, and for the first time, there were no tells. She was utterly still, utterly blank, and somehow, that terrified Lexa. (Because this was her best friend, and yet, it was a stranger who sat across from her.)</p><p>“When I asked you here, I didn’t think you’d say yes. And I kept waiting, waiting to hear you say you’d had enough. And I was angry, but mostly, I think, I was just sad.” She shrugged crookedly, meeting Lexa’s eyes. “If I tell you, it’ll hurt you. And I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” Lexa crossed her arms over her chest, studying Clarke intently.</p><p>“Okay,” she said finally. “Okay. I won’t ask again.”</p><p>“Lexa—”</p><p>“It’ll come out. Apparently, there’s no such thing as a secret in the Griffin household anyway. But I’ll stop pushing.”</p><p>“You’re giving in way too easily.”</p><p>“I’m trying to be nice.”</p><p>“You don’t do nice.” Lexa didn’t answer right away, choosing instead to look over at the other people milling about, going on about their days, totally unaware of the feeling of warmth and fullness and safety and <em>annoyance</em>that filled her chest—a feeling that made her want to lean over and kiss Clarke until she could see that Lexa would do nice, would do kind, would do <em>anything</em>for her, but also made her want to lean over and shake her, shake Clarke until she saw that not talking got them in trouble in the first place, keeping secrets was what tore them apart.</p><p>“Then I’m trying to make a point,” she said finally, still not looking over at Clarke, unsure if the message got across. But it didn’t matter. Not really.</p><p>She’d been waiting for years. A few more days couldn’t hurt.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>The rest of their fake date went swimmingly. (Lexa tried not to think about how that was because they stopped talking entirely, and after half and hour of awkwardness stifling the very life out of them, they’d wordlessly decided to return home.)</p><p>(She also tried not to think about how she had come to see the unfeeling, the cold, the <em>mansion</em>that belonged to Mrs. Griffin as a sort of home away from home. Because that had implications she wasn’t entirely willing to consider, at least not until she could finally stop waiting.)</p><p>When they entered the house, Octavia and Raven immediately accosted them, but their faces—bright, excited, gleeful—fell as soon as they saw them.</p><p>“How could you guys screw this up too?” Raven muttered, shaking her head, turning around and heading right back to the couch.</p><p>“It was a solid plan,” Octavia added, following Raven’s lead. “Mrs. Griffin will be so disappointed.” Lexa didn’t react, but Clarke’s cheeks flamed, and after an awkward pause (the two of them staring at each other, unsure about how to proceed), she took off upstairs, mumbling something about being behind on her studying.</p><p>Lexa, however, went straight to the kitchen.</p><p>“So? How’d the fake date go?” Carol asked without looking up, stirring whatever was in the pot on the stove, a slight smile on her face. Ellie sat at the table, playing a game of solitaire. “It lasted a lot longer than I thought it would.”  </p><p>“She knows?” Lexa asked. Ellie snorted.</p><p>“Everyone knows,” she muttered, shaking her head. Lexa was about to respond, but Mrs. Griffin spoke up before she could.</p><p>“We don’t have a lot of time. John and the others are outside, getting the fire pit ready. They’ll be back any second.” Something must have shown on Lexa’s face, because Ellie elaborated.</p><p>“We’re having hotdogs and homemade chili and s’mores. It’s going to be fun.” Lexa narrowed her eyes at Ellie’s tone, like she couldn’t imagine anything less enjoyable than sitting around a fire with her family, but she didn’t bother to comment.</p><p>“The fake date was fine,” she said instead, turning back to Carol. “She kissed me. Then things went downhill.” Carol looked up, her smile gone.</p><p>“Of course they did. It’s you two. Ellie had boy troubles a few months ago. It didn’t take nearly as much effort to help her.”</p><p>“She’s only fifteen. She’s got time.” Ellie snorted, but her eyes remained on her cards.</p><p>“Tell her the cliff analogy, Grandma,” she said. “I thought it was good.”</p><p>“If it’s anything like the candy one, I don’t want to hear it.” Carol, however, looked decidedly excited, and she dutifully ignored Lexa entirely.</p><p>“The two of you are at the edge of a cliff,” Carol began, stepping away from the stove to lean on the counter and stare at Lexa. “You’re high up, and neither of you can see what’s at the bottom.” Ellie put her cards down, looking interested in the conversation. “Now you, Lexa, you’re ready to jump, jagged rocks at the bottom be damned. You’re a careful person, thoughtful, logical, rational. So it makes sense, really, that when you fall in love, you fall in headfirst, that you’d just go for it, abandoning your reason.” </p><p>“What happened to the dark room analogy? That one seemed less violent.”</p><p>“But Clarke,” Carol continued, still ignoring Lexa completely, “Clarke has always been the sort of person to react first then think. It means she makes a lot of mistakes. So naturally, when she falls in love, she becomes hesitant, she becomes careful. Because she doesn’t want to mess this up.”</p><p>“Get it?” Ellie asked. “You’re both on the ledge, and you’re ready to jump, but Clarke is just tottering on the edge, holding you both back.” Lexa crossed her arms over her chest, frowning and feeling vaguely uncomfortable about having a fifteen year old help her with her love life.</p><p>“So what am I supposed to do?” Lexa asked, making sure to direct the question at Carol. “How do I get Clarke to jump too?”</p><p>“You give her a shove.” Lexa blinked.</p><p>“You know you just told me to push your granddaughter off the ledge of a cliff with jagged rocks at the bottom, don’t you?”</p><p>“It’s metaphorical. And the point was that you don’t know what’s at the bottom. It <em>could</em>be jagged rocks. Or, an abandoned pillow landfill. You have to jump to see.” Lexa’s frown remained in place as she mulled over Carol’s advice.</p><p>“So, give her a shove?”</p><p>“Give her a shove.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Exactly one month after the accident, Lexa gave herself a shove.</p><p>It was after the funeral, after meeting Artemis and Lincoln, after becoming close with Indra, after learning about her mother’s diagnosis, after not hearing from Clarke for weeks. Anya had visited her, and in her typical bluntness, had pointed out Lexa was allowing herself to spiral.</p><p>“When was the last time you cooked a real meal?” she’d asked. Or: “Have you even showered in the last three days?” Or: “Lexa, you can’t have ice cream for dinner, you’re not fucking five years old.”</p><p>It was the combination of her sister’s unconcealed disgust and her own growing need to <em>get out</em>, that made her do it, but even so, when she did it, she didn’t understand it.</p><p>“Wow,” he’d said, shifting the receiver from one ear to the other, his face gaunt from behind the glass, a strange pallor to his skin thanks to the unflattering lights (or maybe he was just ill, she didn’t know or care). “I didn’t expect visitors. But when I let myself hope, I never even imagined it’d be you.” Lexa sat a little straighter in her seat.</p><p>“Finn.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: I get snarky when I'm tired and frustrated and that's the only similarity between myself and lexa</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She watched in fascination as one of the Maddies ate her s’more. First, she took it apart, licking the chocolate off the graham cracker before handing it to Peter who cheerfully tossed it into the fire. Then, she ate the marshmallow, getting it all over her chin, before repeating the cycle.</p><p>The campfire event was loud. Raven and Octavia were playing some sort of game with Ellie, trying to see how much they could make the teenager blush as they talked about boys. Hannah, Abby, Kate, and Elizabeth were trying to outdo each other in a game of chicken involving several glasses of wine. Carol was humming under her breath, watching her children and grandchildren without straying too far from her bowl of chili, making an endless number of s’mores and handing it to the twins. John kept chasing the twins and his son away from the fire and their snacks, shouting playfully, practically drowning out the sound of the music that played from the small radio. Clarke leaned against Lexa’s shoulder, dozing off, and Lexa herself was struggling to stay awake.</p><p>“I assume you two were never the life of the party?” Carol asked, ceasing her humming. Lexa blinked, shifted so that Clarke’s chin wouldn’t dig quite so sharply into her shoulder, and smiled at Carol.</p><p>“A day of repressing your feelings tends to sap you of all your energy.”</p><p>“You sound frustrated.”</p><p>“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”</p><p>“You get snarky when you’re tired and frustrated. I don’t know if I like it.”</p><p>“You’re the one who wanted me to grow a backbone.”</p><p>“I regret that now.”</p><p>“What’s that they say? Be careful what you wish for?”</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind, hon. Do you want to take her up to bed?” She nodded towards Clarke, but before Lexa could answer, Clarke shook her head.</p><p>“I can go on my own.”</p><p>“And trip and fall down the stairs, sweetheart? That’s not very festive.”</p><p>“I’m sleepy, not drunk. I can go up stairs.” Lexa chuckled.</p><p>“Once,” she said, allowing Clarke to lean further into her, clearly about to doze off once more, “Clarke tripped as she went up the stairs to our apartment, holding groceries. And our neighbor had a vase outside his apartment that he was insanely proud of.”</p><p>“Oh god, not this story,” Clarke muttered, hiding her face in Lexa’s neck. Lexa just laughed.</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin, I cannot overstate how much he loved that vase. It might’ve been a family heirloom or something. Held his great-great-grandfather’s ashes?” Clarke didn’t look up, so Lexa continued, unable to help her grin. “Anyway, so Clarke tripped. And the groceries were just tossed down the steps, and the next thing we knew, our neighbor is shouting at us, saying Clarke desecrated his vase.”</p><p>“He didn’t use that word,” Clarke protested, pulling away with a frown.</p><p>“Sure he did.”</p><p>“No, he said, and I quote, ‘I thought you were one of the good ones, Miss Griffin, but it turns out you too go out and partake in nights of debauchery and depravity.’” Lexa snorted, hanging her head as she tried to hide her laughter, but Carol had no such reservations. Her laughter boomed across the yard, briefly drawing the attention of her children.</p><p>“Desecration, debauchery, and depravity. It was quite the night, obviously,” Carol said, shaking her head in mock affront. Lexa nodded seriously.</p><p>“It was a night I wasn’t invited to, sadly,” she added. Clarke rolled her eyes.  </p><p>“I tripped. He thought I was drunk,” Clarke defended, but she was hiding her own smile, turning her head so they wouldn’t catch her grin.</p><p>“The moral of the story is, Mrs. Griffin, Clarke should definitely <em>not</em>be allowed to go up the stairs on her own.”</p><p>“I have to admit, I agree with Lexa on this one, Clarke. You’ve been outvoted.” Clarke mumbled something under her breath, but when she stood, she held her hand out for Lexa.</p><p>“Well come on then,” she said with a small smile when Lexa didn’t take her hand. “Apparently, the trek up the stairs is far too much for me to handle alone.” After a short pause, Lexa took her hand and let her pull her to her feet. Clarke kissed her grandmother goodnight and Lexa offered a smile, and they walked back into the house and up three flights of stairs in utter silence, the camaraderie from outside washing away in Carol’s absence. Before they entered their bedroom (<em>their</em>bedroom, she’d come to think of it as, <em>theirs</em>), Clarke paused and turned to look at Lexa without a word.   </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Earlier,” she said, shrugging crookedly, like her body wasn’t under her own control, “I said a few things I regret.” Lexa stared at Clarke, refusing to respond. Refusing to open up. Refusing to do anything at all. Because for all Carol’s talk of cliffs and ledges and shoves, she no longer believed the responsibility fell on her shoulders. It was time for Clarke to take the plunge, <em>without</em>Lexa’s influence. “I said you don’t do nice.”</p><p>“I don’t.” Clarke closed her eyes.</p><p>“You do. You’re kind even when you don’t have to be, always thoughtful, always willing to do whatever for the people you care about. It was a stupid thing to say.”</p><p>“I’m never nice,” Lexa insisted, crossing her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows in the imperious manner Hannah did. To her ultimate surprise, however, Clarke didn’t back down. In fact, she seemed more resolute. She opened her eyes and gave Lexa a stern look.</p><p>“You’re mush,” she said, and the phrase—completely catching Lexa off guard—made her laugh.</p><p>“Not this again.” Clarke nodded seriously, the hint of a grin at the corner of her mouth.</p><p>“You are. Hard exterior, but just mush inside.”</p><p>“We’re not in college anymore.”</p><p>“No,” Clarke muttered, swallowing hard. “We’re not. But you, Lexa Woods, are still mush, and are still the best thing that ever happened to me.”</p><p>“That line worked <em>once</em>.”</p><p>“It’s not a line.”</p><p>“If you’re trying to say something, Clarke, just go ahead and say it.” Clarke bit her lip, clenched her fists, and leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss at the corner of Lexa’s mouth.</p><p>“When I’ve earned your forgiveness,” she said, pulling away slowly, “do you think we could do what we did today again?”</p><p>“Are you asking me out on a date?” It was a joke, a jape, a jest.</p><p>“A real one. Yes.” Lexa didn’t respond—couldn’t respond. Instead, she was rooted there, stock still and breathless. Her heart hammered against her ribs, the vibrations sending waves down to her fingertips, making her thrum, making her pulsate with a feeling she could not name. It was a nostalgic ache, it was a bittersweet twinge, it was a rush of affection and a surge of hesitancy. (Because her wounds were only just healing, and she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to bare them to Clarke, not just yet. Not now.) Without really thinking about it, she stepped forward, backing Clarke against the door, forcing her to stare into her eyes, finding herself mesmerized and drowning.</p><p>It wasn’t a joke, a jape, or a jest.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“Finn.”</p><p>“You’re my very first visitor. Probably also my only visitor, the way things are going,” he said with a shrug, running his fingers through his hair. It was much longer, unkempt and unruly, looking like he hadn’t washed it in days.</p><p>“You deserve this.”</p><p>“I didn’t say I didn’t,” he said with a sigh. “So. What’re you doing here?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” The admission, when made to herself, rang false. Her mind and heart rebelled against the idea that she didn’t know why she came to see Finn. But when she said it aloud, she could hear the truth in her own words. She <em>didn’t </em>know. All she knew was that she had to be here. Surprisingly, Finn nodded knowingly.</p><p>“You know what’s fucked up?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “I’m in here thinking I should be out there, and you’re out there thinking you should be in here.”</p><p>“I don’t think that.”</p><p>“No?<em>You</em>haven’t placed <em>any</em>blame on your own shoulders?” Lexa felt her face contort in disgust, and she made to stand. “No! Wait! I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t have come here.”</p><p>“Then why? Why did you?” Lexa swallowed, her grip on the receiver tightening, her eyes roving Finn’s face, looking for something, though she wasn’t sure what. “I can talk, if that’s what you want. I just don’t know what you want me to say.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she repeated, cheeks flaming, suddenly realizing this was a bad idea. Finn, however, wasn’t staring at her in confusion, but in understanding, and that just pissed her off.  She didn’t want him to understand her. She didn’t want him to know what was going through her mind. Because that would make them the same—that would make them alike.</p><p>“I call and write Clarke every now and then. She never answers,” he said, leaning forward, his face too close to the glass. “She hates me.” When Lexa didn’t respond, something in his eyes changed. He became harder, gruffer, <em>angrier</em>. “You two are pathetic.”</p><p>“You’re one to talk.”</p><p>“Blind,” he muttered, shaking his head and ignoring her. “Let me guess. Clarke hasn’t spoken to you since the accident? You think she blames you.”</p><p>“He had two sons,” Lexa hissed. “A sister. A brother. He had a good family, a good home, a good life. And you took it from him. Because you had to drive.”</p><p>“Is that why you’re here? To tell me what I’ve done? Because I haven’t forgotten, Lexa. I see it every time I close my fucking eyes.”</p><p>“Why?” she demanded, suddenly realizing <em>this</em>was why she’d come. This one question, this one demand for answers. This one word. “<em>Why</em>?”</p><p>“Why what?”</p><p>“Why did you drive? I called you a cab. It was coming. All you had to do was wait.” Finn met her eyes, but something about him was different—he was twisted, broken, a shamble. And it showed in his eyes, in his gaze. And with a shock, Lexa realized that she saw that same look in her own eyes. Because the accident, the death of Gustus Greene, was something they were both forced to bear, if in entirely different ways. Finn would always be haunted by what he’d done, and Lexa, Lexa would always be haunted by what she allowed to happen. Both to blame. Both culpable for the death of a father, a brother. Both the same.</p><p>Both the same.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>She pressed Clarke against the door, waiting for her brain to catch up, for her heart to settle down. Logically, she knew she had to take self-preservation into account. She wasn’t willing to deal with more pain, and there was a certain safety to standing on the cliff’s edge. (Trust issues, Carol called it. Trust issues.) But her overwhelming feeling, the one she was drowning in, the one she was barely holding at bay, the one she was tired of fighting, want to throw caution to the wind and take the plunge, now sure that Clarke would fall with her.</p><p>“You’d wait?” Lexa asked. “You’d wait until I forgive you. Wait until I say so? Just wait?” Clarke nodded without hesitation.</p><p>“I’d wait as long as it takes.”</p><p>“It’s easier said than done.” Clarke’s eyes, which had not wavered from Lexa’s for one second, took on a strange gleam (knowing, full of understanding, yet also, a muted joy). And she smiled.</p><p>“I’d wait,” she said, shrugging crookedly, like her body wasn’t in her own control. She opened her mouth to say more, but Lexa didn’t let her. She silenced Clarke with a kiss.</p><p>It was nothing like the drunken and clumsy kiss of the dare, nothing like the second time (a time they swore they wouldn’t talk about, swore they wouldn’t mention), nothing like the two heated kisses Clarke initiated. This was soft, this was gentle.</p><p>This had the promise of more to come.</p><p>Clarke’s eyes, which had fluttered to a close, opened slowly as Lexa pulled away. “What are you going to do?” Lexa asked, her fingers ghosting over Clarke’s. “If I told you I just forgave you?”</p><p>“Lexa, I haven’t earned it.”</p><p>“But what would you do?”</p><p>“I’d wait, and I’d try to earn it.”</p><p>“How?” Lexa asked, her voice coming out a little more desperate than she intended. “How would you do that?” Clarke pressed her forehead against Lexa’s and took her hand, squeezing it gently.</p><p>“By being here for you. In any way you need.” There was a long pause before Lexa answered, and when she finally did, her voice came out soft and hesitant, but she didn’t mind. (After all, she’d always been open with Clarke, always been vulnerable.)</p><p>“Be my friend tonight. Just my friend.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you drive? I called you a cab. It was coming. All you had to do was wait.” Finn shook his head, his broken gaze on her.</p><p>“Why do you care?”</p><p>“Because I—”</p><p>“You what? Should’ve forced me in the cab? Should’ve hauled my drunk ass home? Please. Don’t kid yourself.”</p><p>“I should’ve done <em>something</em>.”</p><p>“Do you know where you are?” Finn asked, his voice high, stressed, angry. “Look around you, Lexa. Society has done its job—the killer is behind bars, the innocent are free.” <em>Then why do I feel like Gustus Greene’s death was my fault?</em>she wanted to ask. Instead, what came out was just two words.</p><p>“Then<em>why</em>?” Finn snorted and shook his head, understanding the tacit portion of her question effortlessly.</p><p>“The hell if I know. You’re masochistic? I don’t know you. We were never friends.”</p><p>“No, we weren’t.”</p><p>“The only thing we had in common was that we both loved Clarke. But I think, since I’ll be here for another nine years and eleven months, the better man won.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Well. <em>Woman</em>, I should say.”</p><p>“I’m not here about Clarke. She had nothing to do with what happened that night.”</p><p>“Didn’t she though?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “You were stuck with me because of her, and I hated you because of her. And really, if society went for the root of the problem, you and I would walk free and Clarke would bear the punishment.”</p><p>“Society punished you for vehicular manslaughter. It’s on you.”</p><p>“But it helps,” he said, his voice soft. “Having someone to blame. You blame me, I blame her, she blames you. It’s fucked up.” </p><p>“Why did you drive?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I can’t remember most of that night.”</p><p>“That’s convenient, isn’t it? Can’t even remember killing a man.”</p><p>“Convenient? Believe me, Lexa. What I’ve <em>imagined</em>is ten times worse than what I’ve been told happened. But you know what it feels like, going to sleep and waking up feeling like a monster.”</p><p>“The only monster is you.” Finn nodded, his eyes focusing on something above Lexa’s head.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s true. So why don’t you believe it?”</p><p>“I do believe it. My crime is of negligence. Yours was—”</p><p>“What? My crime was deliberate? I set out that night to kill Gustus Greene? No, Lexa. <em>My</em>crime was of negligence. That’s what they called it. Negligent homicide.” He switched the receiver to his other ear, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “Honestly though, how many times have you wished that I’d died that night instead of Gustus Greene?”</p><p>“Too many to count.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he said, grinning, “me too.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Lexa watched her sleep.</p><p>Clarke had always been a sound sleeper, sleeping straight through alarms and wails and all sorts of noise. She snored lightly, a heavy, breathy sort of sound, her chest rising and falling in time with soft bursts of air coming out of her slightly ajar mouth. She had a habit of curling into a ball as she slept, except, of course, for the times they shared a bed. On those nights (like tonight), she instead melded her body with Lexa’s, legs tangled, faces only inches apart. <em>Just my friend</em>, she’d said, and Clarke had immediately agreed, falling back to their old dynamic, from before the accident, before moving out, before graduation—before emotions became messy, before everything became so complicated.</p><p>They went back to lighthearted jokes and jibes. They went back to relaxed conversations, went back to more physical distance. They went back to when things made sense, when it was simple, <em>easy</em>, to keep a divide between friendship and the possibility (or lack thereof) of something more. Because it had always been easy with them, until it wasn’t.</p><p>Clarke had immediately agreed, and they went back to being friends, chatting until Clarke could barely keep her eyes open, and Lexa wondered how they’d allowed it get to this point. She wondered how a friendship she’d once thought could last forever had derailed and collapsed.</p><p>She wondered if she was being foolish and stupid and utterly reckless as she looked on Clarke’s sleeping form and couldn’t find a shred of anger left inside her. She wondered if she was being a pushover, if she was making a big mistake by letting Clarke fight to earn something she already had.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, me too.”</p><p>“I don’t hate you,” she muttered, somehow feeling the need to say something. Finn, however, looked unbothered.</p><p>“But I hate me. And you hate you.”</p><p>“You lied before. Society put you in here, and you want to be in here.” His grin widened, his head tilted to the side, his eyes lost their gleam.</p><p>“You lied too. You haven’t stopped blaming yourself since it happened.”</p><p>“I’ve met his kids. They’re young. Lincoln likes to draw and Artemis wants to be a doctor like his uncle.”</p><p>“Stop it.”</p><p>“I just thought you should know.”</p><p>“If you came here to hurt me, you didn’t need to bother.” He leaned forward, his lips twisted into a grimace. “You’re not the only one in pain.”</p><p>“We’re not friends, we don’t share this.”</p><p>“No, we’re not friends. But we do share this.” He looked at her then, and for the first time, Lexa saw what Clarke had seen in him. Kindness, gentleness, and endless compassion. “But we shouldn’t. You didn’t kill him.”</p><p>“I blame you, you blame Clarke, Clarke blames me. A fucked up cycle.” Finn smiled mirthlessly.</p><p>“A fucked up cycle,” he agreed. “I should’ve known better. Should’ve known not to compete with you.” He let out a soft sigh. “The first time I met you, it was at that party. You were with someone, and Clarke was with me, and I knew. I knew then.”</p><p>“Knew what?”</p><p>“My relationship with her was doomed from the start.” She opened her mouth to argue, but Finn just shook his head. “It’s okay. Really. I made my peace with it. I’ve had a good long month to think in here.”  He shrugged helplessly, looking lost and confused. “Murderers don’t get happy endings.”</p><p>“You don’t blame her, do you?”</p><p>“Not for the accident, no,” he answered, leaving the thing he did blame Clarke for unsaid. But Lexa, much like Finn had earlier, understood anyway. And so she nodded. “When you finally forgive yourself, visit me again. It would be nice. Even if we’re not friends.”</p><p>“I don’t think so.”  </p><p>“Yeah, it was a long shot, you agreeing. But I thought I’d go for it anyway.”</p><p>“I’m never going to forgive you,” Lexa said, her voice hard, unable to look away from Finn’s small, mirthless smile.</p><p>“Yeah, but I don’t deserve it. It’s different with you.”</p><p>“How’s that?”</p><p>“You don’t need it.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“You only have three more days here,” Carol said, handing Lexa a cup of tea before sitting across from her at the table. It was early, the sun had barely risen, and the rest of the house was silent, was asleep. “I don’t want to be a nosy grandmother but—”</p><p>“—she asked me out. On a real date. I guess your nefarious fake date plot worked.” Carol pursed her lips, shaking her head.</p><p>“I have a confession. It was nefarious, it was a plot, but it wasn’t mine.”</p><p>“Then who—”</p><p>“Clarke. It was Clarke’s idea. She just asked me to go with it.”</p><p>“You<em>lied</em>to me, Mrs. Griffin?”</p><p>“It broke my heart, honestly. But Clarke assured me it was for a good cause. She respects the candy.”</p><p>“Why would she lie about something like that?” Lexa asked, just a little annoyed. “That’s stupid.”</p><p>“I didn’t ask.”</p><p>“You? You didn’t ask?” Lexa frowned. “You ask me questions all the time.” Carol sniffed, raising her chin, and Lexa could see the resemblance between her and her eldest daughter.</p><p>“I almost lost all my faith in my granddaughter. But she’s restored it. So no, I didn’t ask, because I know what she’s trying to do.”</p><p>“What is she trying to do?”</p><p>“Three days left, Lexa. Unless you decide to stay longer, obviously.”</p><p>“She still hasn’t told me why she asked me here. Or why she wants me to say the safe word. She’s still hiding things, keeping secrets.”</p><p>“I was upset too, because that’s what I thought as well. But my faith in my granddaughter has been restored.”</p><p>“What does that mean?”</p><p>“It means she’s waiting for the right moment.”</p><p>“She said I’ll hate her. That doesn’t sound like someone waiting for the right moment.”  Carol winced, looking a little worried.</p><p>“Admittedly, there’s a part of it I know you won’t like. It’ll make you angry. But you won’t hate her, she’s just projecting.”</p><p>“Projecting?”</p><p>“Both of you,” Carol murmured, “broken. It’s time to heal, don’t you think?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: this chapter was the hardest one to write but also, in hindsight, one of my favorites</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sociology was boring.</p><p>That’s what Lexa got from the first lecture, and despite others’ assurances that it was an easy A, that the boredom was worth it, Lexa had decided by the end of the first class period to drop the course the second she returned to her dorm room. (But then she saw the familiar blonde head, and she hadn’t been able to muster the energy to drop the course.)</p><p>It took several lectures before Lexa mustered the courage to sit next to the blonde—the biology major—and smile at her awkwardly.</p><p>“Hi. You’re the walking sleep deprivation PSA.” Blue eyes met hers, and Lexa felt her breath hitch, felt her hands go numb. (Was this normal? This couldn’t be normal.)</p><p>“Oh my god. Hi! And I actually go by Clarke. Walking sleep deprivation PSA is reserved only for finals week.” She held out her hand, grinning widely, and after a short pause, Lexa took it.</p><p>“I’m Lexa,” she said, surprised Clarke even heard her.</p><p>“Hi Lexa,” Clarke answered, still smiling widely. “It’s really nice to meet you.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Lexa paced the room.</p><p>They’d become closer over the last few months, and Lexa found herself at Clarke’s dorm more often than she liked to admit. (Raven told her it was annoying, grinning the whole time. Octavia—Clarke’s roommate—kept hinting that Clarke and Lexa might as well find an apartment together for their senior year.)</p><p>“Lexa. Relax.”</p><p>“I can’t relax, Clarke. I can’t. It’s all ruined. Holy fucking shit. I can’t believe this. I ruined it.”</p><p>“Lexa—”</p><p>“It’s my entire grade, Clarke. I knew I shouldn’t have taken this dumb class. Who was I kidding? I’m not an artist! Who the fuck requires an art elective?”</p><p>“Well, the university—”</p><p>“I’m going to fail. I’ve never failed before. Never. And an art class has defeated me.” Clarke, who was on the couch, her textbook open on her lap, raised her eyebrows, staring at the painting in Lexa’s hands.</p><p>“It’s not that bad.”</p><p>“Don’t lie, don’t lie to me. I can tell, you think it’s terrible. God, an <em>art</em>class, who was I kidding?”</p><p>“Lexa, it’s not even ruined. It looks fine.”</p><p>“The paint is running! It looks like a blob. It was supposed to be a person. Or a bowl. Or something that wasn’t a blob.” Clarke laughed, only just managing to hide it by turning her head away. “You think this is funny?”</p><p>“No, of course not. This is very serious. And I promise you, you’re not going to fail.” Lexa ceased her pacing, throwing the painting down in disgust, refusing to meet Clarke’s eyes.</p><p>“It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless. I should just go home.” She made to pick up her jacket and leave, but Clarke got to her feet in a hurry, knocking her textbook to the ground without paying it any mind, and grabbed Lexa by the wrist.</p><p>“Wait, no. Just stay, okay? You’re upset, and your roommate pisses you off. Just stay tonight.”</p><p>“Clarke—”</p><p>“You’re upset. You think I’m going to let you go off on your own?” Lexa swallowed hard, staring down at where Clarke’s hand gripped her wrist, where her skin suddenly burned for no reason whatsoever. “Stay. Okay?”</p><p>“I’m going to fail an art class, Clarke. It’s so fucked up.” Clarke held out her arms and Lexa stepped into them, accepting Clarke’s embrace, her comfort, inhaling the faint scent of her perfume.</p><p>“You’re not going to fail,” Clarke muttered, rubbing Lexa’s back, holding her tighter. “I promise.”</p><p>After a cup of tea and half an hour of television, Clarke sent her to bed with a smile, claiming that she wanted to stay up a little longer and study. And Lexa—enveloped in Clarke’s sheets, her scent, overwhelmed by the entire night, her heart pounding with anxiety at the thought that she would have to turn in an ugly painting for her final project and fail her first class—fell asleep rather quickly.</p><p>The next morning, she woke up to an exhausted looking Clarke sitting at her desk, grinning widely, pushing a beautiful landscape towards her with paint covered fingers.</p><p>“What did—”</p><p>“You were so upset. So I fixed it.”</p><p>“You didn’t fix it, you re-did it. Clarke, did you stay up all night for this?”</p><p>“It’s not a big deal—”</p><p>“You have an exam! And this is beautiful, incredible. Clarke—”</p><p>“It’s really fine,” she laughed, interrupting Lexa by shoving her over and sliding into bed. She laughed at the shocked look on Lexa’s face, rolling her eyes. “I’m prepared for my exam. And you were right, failing art is stupid. So I fixed it.”</p><p>“Clarke—”</p><p>“I’m going to nap, okay? Wake me up half an hour before my exam?”</p><p>“Yeah, definitely. With a coffee and a muffin.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“I owe you.”</p><p>“What would you do without me?”</p><p>“Probably fail at life. And art.” Clarke laughed, hiding her face in Lexa’s shoulder.</p><p>“You’re mush, you know that?” She chuckled a little, then pressed further into Lexa. “You were upset,” she mumbled, clearly about to doze off. “I hate seeing you upset.” And had Lexa been a little less preoccupied with the relief of not failing her class, with planning where to get Clarke her coffee and muffin, with the soft snores that came from the girl who was quickly becoming her best friend, she would have noticed the fondness that erupted in her chest, the swelling of affection, the warmth that burst through her.</p><p>(Had she been paying a little bit of attention, she would have known, she would have known she was in trouble.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“Your mom bought you an apartment?” Lexa raised her eyebrows, and Clarke hung her head, dropping it to the table with a groan. Several of the students in the library shushed her angrily, and Clarke cheerfully told them to fuck off.</p><p>“No. Listen. My dad made some investments, okay? And apparently it’s made a bit of money and my mom used some of it to buy property.”</p><p>“She owns the <em>building</em>?”</p><p>“Lexa, if you’re not going to listen—”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m listening.” Clarke looked up then, looking vaguely uncomfortable.</p><p>“Anyway. One of apartments is empty. And she’s offered it, so that we don’t have to live on campus.”</p><p>“We?”</p><p>“Well, yeah. Me and you.” Lexa sat up straighter, not missing the way her heart thudded at the blasé way Clarke said ‘we,’ as if it were obvious, a foregone conclusion. </p><p>“Clarke, I know I said I wanted out of the dorms, but I’m not going to accept your mom’s charity—”</p><p>“Charity? Lexa, she’s making us pay rent. We won’t live there for free.” Lexa narrowed her eyes, frowning. “Just…a little cheaper.”</p><p>“Clarke—”</p><p>“It’s a good deal, Lexa. It’s a good apartment, it’s close to campus, and it’ll be our own little affordable den. Just, think about it, okay? Don’t just say no.” Lexa sighed, tapping her fingers lightly against the wooden table, thinking aloud.</p><p>“Are you sure you want to live with me?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Clarke. I wake up at ungodly hours and go for jogs. I hate it when my roommate brings boys over. I’m a neat freak. I sometimes don’t come home at night. I can’t cook.”</p><p>“The jogging thing is weird,” Clarke muttered, sounding more annoyed than Lexa thought she should. “But we can easily deal with the rest. Besides, it’ll be senior year. You’re my best friend. Living together will be amazing.”</p><p>“Or it’ll break up our friendship forever.”</p><p>“Or it could make us closer,” Clarke said, winking.</p><p>“Any closer, Clarke, and we’d be dating.” She expected a laugh, but instead she was met with silence and she wondered if she somehow hurt Clarke by not immediately agreeing to live with her. “Fine. I’ll talk to my mom tonight. I’ll tell you tomorrow.” Clarke was still silent. “Clarke?”</p><p>“No rush, Lexa,” she said, her eyes on Lexa’s tapping fingers. “There’s no rush.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Afterwards, they both claimed they were drunk. Sleepy. Stupid. A whole host of excuses, reasons rattled off to rationalize their actions. Afterwards, they swore they’d never talk about it again. Never mention it, never even allude to it. Afterwards, they acted like it never happened.</p><p>It was two months before graduation, and Lexa had just returned from visiting Anya for spring break. In an attempt to ‘welcome’ Lexa back, Clarke had thrown a party, inviting everyone they knew, their small apartment packed to the brim with people, music, and the smell of alcohol. And after a torturous hour of making small talk with people she didn’t really care for, Lexa noticed that Clarke was gone. After another agonizing ten minutes, she found her best friend in her own room, laying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.</p><p>“Bored of your own party?” she asked, closing the bedroom door behind her, moving over to lay next to Clarke, making sure their shoulders brushed.</p><p>“It’s your party.”</p><p>“Is it? Because you invited your fellow science buddies.” Clarke grinned, turning to look at Lexa.</p><p>“What did you think of them?”  </p><p>“The one with the goggles is half in love with Octavia. The one with the straight hair is either into Bellamy’s friend or into that girl who can’t stop chatting about fertilizer. And you’re here because you’re bored to death out there.”</p><p>“You’ve been paying attention. See, you’re mush,” Clarke muttered, smiling. Lexa turned away, tutting with her tongue.</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><p>“I missed you, you know.”</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><p>“Seriously. Didn’t leave the apartment the entire week. Watched TV. Think I showered just once.”</p><p>“That’s gross.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Clarke cleared her throat, tapping Lexa on the shoulder to get her attention. “I’m serious. You’re mush.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I know.”</p><p>“You should let other people see it. I know you know Monty and Jasper’s names. Raven says you terrify them.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“Lexa.”</p><p>“I don’t need to be nice to them.”</p><p>“You’re mush, you can’t hide that from me.” Lexa glared at Clarke.</p><p>“I don’t hide from you, Clarke. I just don’t care if Jasper likes me. I really don’t care.” She paused, considering. “I hate his goggles. He looks ridiculous.”</p><p>“Liar.”</p><p>“Where’s Finn?”</p><p>“We’re in a fight.”</p><p>“Another one?”</p><p>“Yeah.” She shifted so that she was on her side, facing Lexa. “I feel like you and I aren’t really talking anymore.” Lexa snorted, but Clarke didn’t even smile. “I miss you.”</p><p>“I’m right here.”</p><p>“Yeah,” she muttered, but her tone was lifeless, was disbelieving. Her eyes, her eyes bored into Lexa’s, and feelings she’d been repressing—forced to avoid Clarke in order not to jeopardize their friendship—burst forth, as if they’d been lying in wait, ready to capitalize on a weak moment. (She was drowning in blue.) “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, did you know that?” The words, spoken so clearly, so strongly—as if she’d been thinking it and had only been waiting for the moment it could spring from her lips—broke the last of Lexa’s resolve. Broke down all her arguments, made her throw caution to the wind. Without giving her brain or heart the chance to protest (because she knew, she knew this was wrong, she knew this would hurt, but she didn’t care, she didn’t care), she leaned forward and pressed her lips against Clarke’s.</p><p>She thought Clarke would immediately pull away, was prepared for it, keeping the kiss gentle, soft, barely there. But Clarke didn’t react as expected; instead of pulling away, she surged forward, deepening the kiss, her hands going to Lexa’s collar, pulling her closer. And Lexa, Lexa felt her heart soar, felt her body meld with Clarke’s as if it belonged there, felt her very bones thrum and hum in contentment. She gave into the kiss, into her desires, not caring that she was no longer laying next to Clarke, but hovering on top of her. She didn’t care that every time she pulled back just a little, Clarke pulled her back forward, didn’t care when Clarke tugged even further on her collar, ruining her shirt. She didn’t care because it was <em>Clarke</em>. She was surrounded, enveloped, <em>drowning</em>in Clarke. Overwhelmed by Clarke’s scent, by the way her teeth grazed her lips, by the sounds she made when Lexa pressed against her. She was overwhelmed, and she didn’t notice Clarke release her collar, didn’t notice how her hands wandered, didn’t notice until they slipped under her shirt, igniting miniature flames against her skin, making her want to tear off Clarke’s clothes—making her want to feel more, more, <em>more.</em>But suddenly, through the desire, through the fire, through the haze that filled her mind, she remembered: this was <em>wrong</em>.</p><p>She pulled back, rolling off Clarke so violently that she nearly fell onto the floor, shaking her head.</p><p>“Lexa—”</p><p>“Oh, god, I’m so sorry. God. You have a boyfriend. What am I doing?” She scrambled off the bed, taking several steps away, running her fingers through her hair as Clarke sat up, leaning against the headboard.</p><p>“Lexa, no—” But Lexa shook her head, unwilling to listen, unwilling to allow Clarke to let this go. (Because Clarke would just claim it was no big deal, just like the painting, just like the apartment, but it <em>was</em>a big deal, it was all Lexa had ever wanted and she just couldn’t, <em>couldn’t</em>, let Clarke wave it off as no big deal.)</p><p>“I’m just drunk, I’m so sorry. I’m drunk.” (She was lying, she felt she was always lying to Clarke lately.)</p><p>“I kissed you back.”</p><p>“You’ve been drinking too?” (<em>Say no</em>, Lexa prayed. <em>Say no. Say that you wanted it, say that you dreamed of it like me</em>.)</p><p>“Yeah,” Clarke muttered, hanging her head, her hair veiling her face. “I’ve been drinking.”</p><p>“God, Clarke. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m tired and drunk and an idiot. Can you forgive me?” (<em>Say no</em>, Lexa prayed. <em>Say that you’re not sorry, say that this wasn’t a mistake.</em>)</p><p>“Of course,” Clarke said, her voice sounding off, but still refusing to look up. “Already forgiven.”</p><p>“Clarke,” Lexa said desperately, wondering if she tore everything apart—wondering if their careful balance was finally compromised. “It didn’t mean anything, I swear.” (<em>Say something, </em>Lexa prayed. <em>Call me a liar. Look at me and see that I’m lying. Call me out.</em>)</p><p>“It meant nothing at all,” Clarke agreed, eyes still on her lap. “I don’t really feel all that well,” she murmured, pulling her sweater tighter around herself. “I think I’m going to just stay here and try to sleep.”</p><p>“Okay. Do you want anything? Tea, soup, or—”</p><p>“No. No, just being alone would be nice.”</p><p>“Okay,” Lexa said, wondering if Clarke could hear the sound of her heart shattering, or if perhaps the ringing her in her ears was something else entirely. “Let me know if you need me.” Clarke didn’t respond, and Lexa left her bedroom, sending people home immediately, ignoring the looks Raven kept sending her.</p><p>And the next morning, other than a few awkward glances and some awkward blushing, they pretended the kiss never happened.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>She had known from the start that there would be a fight.</p><p>“Are you going to tell her goodbye at least? Or just sneak away like you’re doing something wrong?” Bellamy asked as he picked up the last of the boxes, raising his eyebrows from over it and giving Lexa a significant look.</p><p>“Yeah. I’m saying goodbye. Of course I am.” He snorted, but didn’t mention the time, the fact that it was barely sunrise, the fact that Clarke was still fast asleep.</p><p>“Right. I’ll wait in the truck, okay?”</p><p>“Thanks, Bellamy. For helping out. And for not telling Clarke.”</p><p>“If she asks, I’m telling her you forced me into it,” he said, but he was trying to hide a small grin as he left her now bare bedroom and headed downstairs. Lexa swallowed hard, standing there alone for a moment, before she took a deep breath and walked across the hallway and knocked hesitantly on Clarke’s bedroom door. She didn’t respond, so with a heavy heart, Lexa pushed the door open.</p><p>She was curled into a ball, looking small and vulnerable in sleep in a way she never did when awake. For several seconds, Lexa was content to lean against the doorway and watch her, to study the steady rise and fall of her chest, listen to the soft incomprehensible murmuring coming from her lips. She stood at the doorway and her heart ached, and the pain of it brought tears to her eyes, brought a reluctance she’d thought she’d fought off when she decided she had to leave. (She stood at the doorway, and she marveled that the pain had not yet brought her to her knees, gasping for a moment of respite, a moment of rest.)</p><p>“Clarke?” Lexa found herself saying, stepping forward and approaching Clarke’s bed. She felt her heart stutter and stop for just a moment when Clarke opened her eyes blearily, before it resumed its agonizing beat after a moment of consideration. (She wondered if it was normal to feel disappointment that your heart was doing its job.)</p><p>“What time is it? Is something wrong?”</p><p>“No, nothing’s wrong.” She stepped back, and Clarke’s eyes—still somewhat narrowed from sleep—seemed to become more alert.</p><p>“Why are you dressed? Going somewhere?” Lexa swallowed, shoving the pain dip into the pits of her chest, refusing to acknowledge it, refusing to give it life or let it breathe.</p><p>“Clarke, I’m leaving.” Clarke sat up, the last vestiges of sleep erased from her face.</p><p>“Leaving where?”</p><p>“I’m moving in with Anya. It’s closer to campus, smaller—” But Clarke wasn’t listening. She got to her feet and left her bedroom, heading straight towards what used to be Lexa’s room. Lexa followed her sullenly, watching in horror as the shock on Clarke’s face turned to hurt and then to anger.</p><p>“I don’t…I don’t get it.”</p><p>“Law school is a big deal,” Lexa began, reciting the speech she’d come up with from memory. “I need to be focused and—”</p><p>“What the fuck, Lexa?”</p><p>“—and I can’t afford to screw this up. So I’m only working part-time and need a cheaper place to stay—”</p><p>“If this was about money, you could have just told me! My mom—”</p><p>“—already has done enough. I’m not going to ask for her or your charity—”</p><p>“—it’s not about charity, it’s about being friends and being a part of a family and—</p><p>“Clarke! I told you when I moved in, all of this would be professional, by the book. That I’d pay my fair share of the rent—”</p><p>“—is this by the book, Lexa? Leaving without a word? What about the lease?”</p><p>“You mean that napkin from the restaurant that I forced you and Dr. Griffin to sign? It’s with your mom, I gave it to her after I told her I was moving out.”</p><p>“You told my mom, but not me?”</p><p>“Clarke, it has nothing to do with you. Okay? I just need to focus on school. And I can’t do that when you’re bringing boys back here every other night and—” She cut herself off at the horrified look on Clarke’s face, but it was too late.</p><p>“I don’t know which is worse, that you think that’s true or that you couldn’t even be bothered to talk to me first before deciding to up and leave.”</p><p>“It’s hard to talk to you, Clarke. Because every time I try to tell you something you just ignore it.”</p><p>“So not only am I a distraction to you, but I’m also a shitty friend.” She laughed mirthlessly. “Well I’m glad you decided to move out, who knows how long I’d fool myself into thinking we’re best friends if you hadn’t.”</p><p>“Clarke—”</p><p>“No, I get it. We’re just two people who live together. Certainly not friends.”</p><p>“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? Because I’m not, I have to do this.”</p><p>“Why? Why do you have to do this? Why in this way? Why without even a word of warning?” Lexa stared at her, at her messy hair, at her disheveled nightclothes, at her tear-filled eyes. Lexa stared at her and she lied.</p><p>“Because you don’t <em>get </em>it. Everything is easy for you! Everything has been given to you. So you don’t try and you’re holding me back. You’re dragging me to bars and force me to listen to shit about your boyfriend or girlfriend of the week and you’re just…you’re holding me back.”  (<em>Say no</em>, Lexa prayed. <em>Tell me I’m lying, shout back at me. Give me the chance to tell you that I can’t be near you without wanting you. That I love you, I love you and it’s tearing me apart to not be with you. Call me a liar and force me tell you the truth.</em>)</p><p>(There were three truths, Lexa knew.)</p><p>“Oh.” The single word came out soft, and Lexa saw Clarke smaller and more vulnerable than she’d ever been before. Lexa saw pain shine in Clarke’s eyes, and it was like knives to the heart because pain was not what she wanted to inflict, because pain was what she’d wanted to avoid. (Avoid her own pain, yes, but more desperately, avoid causing Clarke any pain. Hurting her was unfathomable, hurting her was unforgivable.) “I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly, like her lungs had stopped working. “You’re right.” She cleared her throat, looked down, and hugged her middle, as if she’d been cut open and she was desperately trying to keep everything inside. “I wish you the <em>best</em>of luck, Lexa. In everything you do.”</p><p>“Clarke, I—”</p><p>“Goodbye.” Lexa bit her lips at the finality of the word, but she nodded and left, numbly heading down the stairs and ambling into Bellamy’s truck.</p><p>“So? How mad was she?” he asked, frowning at her, not starting the car. After a second, she realized it was because she’d been shedding silent tears.</p><p>“She wasn’t mad,” Lexa muttered, and Bellamy nodded, hearing the tacit portion of her strained comment: <em>She wasn’t mad, she was hurt. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Raven and Octavia took turns telling her she was being stupid.</p><p>“You’re being so stupid,” Raven muttered, leaning back on her couch. “And so is Clarke for that matter. But the difference is that this is normal behavior for Clarke, but it’s downright unnatural for you.”</p><p>“Raven,” Lexa sighed, rubbing her eyes, “I’m not really—”</p><p>“She hasn’t showered in at least a month. The apartment is just disgusting, Lexa. She’s fallen apart.” Lexa swallowed hard, turning away to look out the window and down to the bustling street below. It was a wet, miserable sort of day—there’d been no shortage of them since Lexa had moved out—and somehow the gloom of outside pervaded her entire apartment.</p><p>“I’ve only been gone for two weeks.”</p><p>“She barely needed an hour before she broke down. She has a flair for the dramatics. It’s a Griffin thing.” Lexa didn’t answer immediately. For a long moment, she continued to stare out the window, seeing only the way Clarke had hugged herself, seeing only the way her shoulders had hunched and she had flinched as if Lexa had physically hit her. She turned to Raven, hating the way her heart kept beating—hating that she’d done the right thing for herself yet still felt guilty.</p><p>“How is she, really?”</p><p>“She doesn’t really eat. Refuses to mention your name. Classes don’t even start up for another two weeks, but she’s thrown herself into school. I don’t think she sleeps much.” Raven cleared her throat uncomfortably, sitting up straighter. “Finn’s been poking around. He keeps saying shit. I think he wants to get back with her.”</p><p>“Clarke would never go for that, he made her miserable.” Raven shrugged.</p><p>“Yeah, but miserable is better than heartbroken,” she said, getting to her feet and pulling on her raincoat, clearly intent on leaving. “She’ll see, Lexa, you know that right? She doesn’t know why it hurts so much yet, but she’s a smart cookie. She’ll figure it out.”</p><p>“And what am I supposed to do? Wait around? Keep pretending that it doesn’t bother me?” Raven stepped forward, and to Lexa’s ultimate surprise, pulled her into a tight embrace.</p><p>“No one is asking you to suffer for her, Lexa. So why are you making yourself suffer?”</p><p>“I don’t know what that means,” Lexa murmured as Raven pulled away.</p><p>“It means whether or not you tell her that you love her, whether or not she ever figures out she loves you, you two are better off together than apart.” She shrugged again, a small and sympathetic smile on her face. “Call her, okay? And come celebrate the beginning of the new semester with us.”</p><p>“You think Clarke will forgive me in two weeks, you think she’ll invite me to the bar?”</p><p>“Are you kidding? She was never mad. She doesn’t know how to be angry with you. It’s half the problem.” But Lexa didn’t understand.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>She found Carol, unsurprisingly, in the kitchen, struggling with opening a can of baked beans.</p><p>“Do you need help, Mrs. Griffin?” Lexa asked, approaching the older woman and taking the can and can opener out of her hands without bothering to wait for a reply. Clarke, who was sitting at the table with Octavia and Raven, was peeling potatoes. She looked up and smiled at Lexa before refocusing her attention on whatever Raven was saying.</p><p>“It’s a good thing I have my granddaughter and honorary granddaughter here. My own children are refusing to help. I think Lizzie’s drunk.”</p><p>“I just saw her. She’s helping John with the grilling.”</p><p>“That’s why I think she’s drunk. She hates helping.”</p><p>“I have an answer for you, by the way,” Lexa said, letting her voice drop to a whisper as she opened the can. Carol hummed, digging through the refrigerator.</p><p>“An answer for what?”</p><p>“For why I love Clarke.”   </p><p>“Oh? And what’s that?” Carol asked, stepping back to look Lexa in the eyes. Lexa shrugged, a crooked motion, almost like her body wasn’t in her own control (a tick, she realized, she got from Clarke).</p><p>“It bothered me,” she said, shrugging again and placing the now open can of beans on the counter. “That I didn’t have an answer for you. So I thought about it. A lot.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“I love her, I fell in love with her, because she’s Clarke.” Carol blinked, and somehow, a smile formed on Lexa’s face. “It’s really that simple. She’s Clarke.”</p><p>“That’s…an impressive answer.”</p><p>“You think?”</p><p>“It’s certainly uncommon. But I like it. You love her because she’s Clarke. Simple yet elegant. Nice work, hon.”</p><p>“I haven’t said yes to the date yet.”</p><p>“Oh, I know. She’s mentioned it quite a few times today. Are you going to say yes?”</p><p>“Once this is all over, I think so. Next time I see you, Mrs. Griffin, Clarke and I might actually be dating for real.” Carol opened her mouth, but Lexa never got to hear what she had to say. Clarke, Raven, and Octavia chose that moment to finish with the potatoes and bring it over.</p><p>“Tell her, Lexa,” Octavia said, rolling her eyes. “Tell her that the thing she did with microwaveable mac and cheese was just atrocious.”</p><p>“Remember? The eating in the middle of the night, waking up feeling ashamed that she was covered in macaroni, so she wouldn’t eat until she was starving once again in the middle of the night,” Raven explained helpfully. Lexa rolled her eyes.</p><p>“A fucked up cycle,” Clarke muttered, shaking her head. “Add that to the list of fucked up cycles in my life.” They all laughed, and Lexa picked up the can of beans, about to hand it over to Carol when a nagging thought caught her. She felt a prickle between her shoulder blades at the familiarity of the phrase, and then felt like she’d been doused in icy water when she realized where she heard it before.</p><p>“You blame me, I blame Clarke, Clarke blames you. A fucked up cycle.” Raven and Octavia, who’d begun chatting with Carol, went silent, and Clarke’s eyes widened as Lexa turned to face her. “That’s where that came from. You…” She shook her head, her hands shaking, something fiery erupting in her veins. “You went to see Finn?”</p><p>“It’s not what you think,” Octavia immediately interjected, but Lexa didn’t even bother looking her way. “Lexa, it’s not.”</p><p>“You’re supposed to stay out of it,” she snapped, eyes still on Clarke. “Tell me. Tell me that you didn’t go see him. Tell me that that’s not where that came from. Tell me, Clarke.” Her eyes—blue, blue, so very blue—were filled with tears as she slowly, reluctantly, shook her head.</p><p>“I can’t,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.  </p><p>“Lexa, please. It’s not what you think. I swear—”</p><p>“You two knew as well?” Lexa interrupted, her glare now directed at Octavia and Raven, her once friends, people she’d thought she lost forever, people who were just beginning to med the rift between them, people who she now realized she never really knew. “You knew and you didn’t say anything?”</p><p>“Lexa, listen to me,” Raven begged, stepping forward. “This is it, this is what we kept from you, but believe me, it’s not what you think. It’s not—”</p><p>“It’s not what?” Lexa demanded, not caring that she was being too loud, not caring that Carol was right there. “It’s not okay that I didn’t hear from any of you for months? That I was ignored and blamed and hated for something I didn’t even do, and the one who did it—the one who was actually at fault—he got a fucking visit? Because that is the <em>only</em>way you could end that sentence for it to make any sense at all.”</p><p>“He called and wrote all the time, Clarke ignored it all, Lexa, you have to believe us there’s and explanation for—”</p><p>“You’re supposed to stay the fuck out of it, Octavia!” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door to the kitchen open, saw a worried looking Abby and John rush in, saw Carol shake her head immediately. She saw all this, but all she could focus on was the sight of Clarke in front of her, tears running freely down her cheeks, and on the overwhelming, horrifying feeling of her heart shattering (once again, yet again, always again, again).  </p><p>“Lexa,<em>please</em>, hear her out,” Raven tried again, but Lexa shook her head, tired, frustrated, but most of all, done. She was done.</p><p>“Since I met you, I’ve always been there for you. Constantly. I gave and I gave and I gave and I thought it was fine, I thought it was okay, because you were <em>you</em>. Everything I’ve done, it was done for you. Every word, every action, every single thought, devoted to helping you, protecting you, sparing you pain, ” Lexa shook her head, knowing that she was shedding her own tears, knowing she had an audience, knowing, knowing, knowing, that this was the final straw, that there was no coming back from this. “But I was wasting my time. Because you went to see Finn, but you didn’t even call me until you needed me, until you had no choice. You’re selfish and cruel, you <em>used</em>me, and I just don’t have anything else to give.”</p><p>“Clarke, say something,” Raven muttered, but Clarke didn’t. Instead, she took each blow with a small flinch, her shoulders drooping further and further, almost as if she felt she deserved the slings, as if she deserved the pain, as if she <em>wanted</em>to be shouted at.</p><p>That thought made Lexa pause, and she took several shaky steps back, the can of beans falling to the floor, spilling everywhere. Lexa was suddenly nauseous because for one sick, horrifying, repulsive moment, the pain that she’d had constantly shoved deep inside—the pain she hid, the pain she was ashamed of, the pain she bore because even now she was willing to tear out her own heart for Clarke—had been mirrored on Clarke’s face, and Lexa felt a glimmer of satisfaction. Satisfaction that had washed away and been replaced by a new wave of anguish as she stared at Clarke and her hunched shoulders. (All she’d done, she claimed, was be there for Clarke. Every action, every word, all intended to spare Clarke pain, and yet here she was, inflicting it.) Lexa opened her mouth, not knowing what she wanted to say—how she could fix what she just broke—but Clarke, silent up till then, shook her head.</p><p>“Please,” she said, breathlessly, as if her lungs had stopped working. “Please, Lexa.” And in that moment, everything clicked into place, everything made sense. <em>What kind of asshole best friend wants to hear the fucking safe word? </em>Clarke had asked. In that moment, Lexa had an answer for her. In that moment, she knew why, and with a shaky voice, with a heavy, sunken, lifeless heart, she gave Clarke what she wanted and what Lexa herself needed.</p><p>“<em>Emerson</em>.”</p><p>(There were three truths, Lexa knew.)</p><p>(One, she met Clarke officially, by mere chance, in her Sociology class.)</p><p>(Two, becoming her friend was no choice at all.)</p><p>(Three, falling in love with her, falling in love with her was an inevitable mistake.) </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: there's a quote by Emerson on the meaning of success that I quite like, hence using Emerson. undergrad me thought it was so clever. present me thinks undergrad me was a fucking dork. also this is my favorite chapter in the whole damn fic</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their university’s library was nothing special, really. It was pretty enough to look at, smelled of paper and ink and the fragrant scent of old books, the coffee shop in the basement continually waging a losing war on keeping the sleep-deprived and caffeine-addicted students happy.</p><p>But to them, the library was everything.</p><p>It was where they first ran into each other, where they stayed up all night quizzing each other for exams, where they found an unlocked door that led to the roof and began sneaking up there to be alone, where Lexa first called Clarke her best friend, where Clarke first promised that she’d do anything for Lexa, where Lexa felt the urge to admit to Clarke that she had fallen in love with her, that she was in love with her. (She had been dressed in her cap and gown, glowing in the excitement of finally graduating, and Clarke was waiting in line for coffee, her hair sticking out in odd directions thanks to the cap, a brilliant smile on her face, and Lexa wanted to tell her, tell her everything.)</p><p>Emerson Library, a fairly forgotten and ignored building on campus, was Lexa and Clarke’s favorite place in the entire world.</p><p>(<em>Naturally</em>, she’d thought when Clarke told her it would be the safe word. <em>It makes sense</em>. Now, she said it with anger, demonizing the very place she’d once loved so much.)</p><p>“<em>Emerson</em>.” The word came out of her like a burst dam, somehow sounding like the vocalization of every ounce of pain she endured, every moment of bitterness she shoved down, every agonizing second of heartbreak she consistently ignored. It was a single word, yet it wasn’t. It was Clarke and Lexa in a nutshell, and it was the shattering of that connection. “I should never have agreed to be your fake girlfriend in the first place.”</p><p>“Someone spilled the beans,” Carol said shakily, looking around at John and Abby’s wide-eyed faces, at Octavia and Raven’s identical looks of shock (at what, Lexa didn’t know), at Clarke’s (<em>Clarke’s</em>) still flowing tears, her voice echoing in the silence that followed Lexa’s revelation. The now-empty can of beans rolled on the floor, forgotten, Carol’s joke not landing. Because logically, rationally, Lexa knew what Carol was doing—knew that she was trying to help, knew that had it been any other day at any other moment, it would have worked. But Lexa was rubbed raw, the pain was too much, the wounds still far too fresh.</p><p>“You told me,” she said, turning to the older woman, “that your faith was restored. That Clarke was just projecting.” She couldn’t help the accusatory tone that seeped into her voice then, couldn’t help the way her face contorted in pain, couldn’t help but feel sick to the stomach when she saw that pain mirrored on Carol’s face. “I thought of you as family. But you lied to me too.” Without bothering to look at any of the others, Lexa rushed out of the kitchen, a single thought on her mind as she practically ran up the stairs and barged into the room she and Clarke had shared, immediately reaching for her bags:</p><p>She had to go. </p><p>She was halfway through packing up her things when she heard the knock on the door, and she groaned, knowing she should have expected it, knowing she should have just locked the door when it opened without her consent.</p><p>“Go away, Clarke, I’m not in the mood.”</p><p>“I don’t know where Clarke is, actually,” Abby said, forcing Lexa to look up in shock, surprised to see the doctor. “She left.” Lexa swallowed back her surprise at Clarke’s flight (<em>Clarke</em>), and focused on the woman in front of her.</p><p>“I’m leaving as well.” She paused, clearing her throat uncomfortably. “I’m sorry Dr. Griffin, for lying to you, for trying to trick you.” </p><p>“You didn’t lie to me.”</p><p>“But I—”</p><p>“I may not be a involved in my daughter’s life as I’d like, Lexa, but I think I know enough to know that you two were never dating.” Lexa blinked, unable to process the revelation, choosing instead to sit down at the edge of the bed. “I’m her <em>mother</em>. Clarke has never been able to lie to me.”</p><p>“Did anyone not know? <em>Anyone</em>?”</p><p>“Peter and the twins, I think. But we’re not telling them, they’d be heartbroken.”</p><p>“Dr. Griffin—”</p><p>“—I knew she was lying,” she interrupted, shrugging, “but I let her anyway, because I thought you two would figure things out. I thought it might be good for you, that you’d be forced to at least talk. I guess I should’ve known better.”</p><p>“Maybe.” Lexa felt rather than saw Abby step further into the room, look at the halfway packed bags, and sit down next to her on the bed. Abby placed a hand on Lexa's back, the gesture soothing and comforting, motherly even. (Even if motherly was never the way Lexa would describe Abby Griffin.)</p><p>"When you told me you wanted to move out, you said you had your reasons and it was better in the long run. So I trusted you." Lexa swallowed, closing her eyes, trying to block out Abby's words, but it was no use. "When you came to me six weeks later, told me about your mom and asked for help, when you begged me not to tell Clarke, telling me it was better if she didn't know for a while, I trusted you." Abby was silent long enough that Lexa opened her eyes, forced to meet the older woman's gaze. "I'm asking you to trust me now."</p><p>"What do you want me to do, Dr. Griffin? Apologize to her? Find her and tell her it doesn't matter?" Abby smiled, but to Lexa's ultimate surprise, shook her head.</p><p>"No. No, I'm not here to get involved in your relationship or to give you advice or to tell you what to do. I just have a request." Lexa waited with bated breath, waited to hear Abby tell her to stay away from Clarke (what mother wouldn't?) but for the second time, the older woman shocked her. "I need you to think."</p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>"We're the protagonists of our own story, Lexa. We feel our own pain ten-fold, but consistently miss the pain of those around us. So I need you to think, to put yourself in someone else's shoes."</p><p>"Dr. Griffin, I—"</p><p>"I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm just asking you to consider her side. See if you were being fair. See if she's ever been fair. Come to a conclusion, then make a decision."</p><p>"I don't know her side."</p><p>"Then that's something to consider."</p><p>"You're asking me to talk to her."</p><p>"No, Lexa, I'm asking you to consider talking to her." She stood up then, and Lexa was up for shock number three: rather than leave the same way she came (silently and abruptly), Abby pressed a soft kiss on Lexa's forehead, like she was a child. <em>Her</em>child. "I know Carol said this before, but I want you to hear it from me," she said, pulling away and smiling at Lexa, patting her cheek gently. Like she was a child, <em>her</em>child. "Even if you decide Clarke isn't worth it, if you don't want to talk, if the two of you are forever at odds, you're a part of our family. Always.”</p><p>She was halfway out the door before Lexa spoke up. "It's why I'm here, Dr. Griffin. Clarke was always worth it."</p><p>"So are you, sweetheart. And it's Abby, remember?" And then she was gone.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“My niece would be stupid to let you go. And she’s a med school student, she’s not stupid.”</p><p>“Haven’t you heard? Med schools just let anyone in these days,” Octavia said cheerfully, pushing John away and pulling Lexa into a tight hug. “We won’t make the same mistake twice, Lexa. We can be good friends to you both. So Raven and I will be at your door bright and early tomorrow morning.”</p><p>“—I was talking to her. We don’t know where Clarke went, she could be back soon, are you sure you don’t want to wait and—”</p><p>“You’re making the right choice here, Lexa. We should’ve told you about seeing Finn,” Raven said, hanging her head apologetically. “I don’t know how you can bear Octavia’s hug.” She nodded towards Octavia, who was still holding onto Lexa.</p><p>“I’m telling you,” Hannah called from over the heads of her twins, who were crying and asking for ‘Lexie’ to stay, something that made Lexa uncomfortable. “Play hard to get. That standoffishness will get you places.”</p><p>“Sarcasm,” John muttered. “Use sarcasm on Clarke. It’ll work, promise.”</p><p>“Just think about talking to her,” Abby said, shaking her head, but Elizabeth snorted, and Octavia continued to refuse to let go of Lexa.</p><p>“I’m so disappointed in her,” Elizabeth muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “Who could bear to hurt <em>you?</em>You’re an angel, Lexa. An angel.”</p><p>“I’m telling you, sarcasm. Sarcasm always works, Lexa,” John reiterated.</p><p>“We’ll be there,” Raven repeated. “We’ll be there for you this time. You’re our friend, and we don’t want to lose you. We’ll prove it.”</p><p>“Ignore everyone, Lexa dear. That is the only way.”</p><p>“God, I wish I could go with you, you shouldn’t be alone,” Octavia muttered, still holding onto her.</p><p>“Where’s Mrs. Griffin?” Lexa asked, speaking for the first time, silencing the others. Octavia finally released her, and John clapped her on the shoulder.</p><p>“In her bedroom. I think she’s trying to pretend she—” But Lexa had stopped listening. She put down her bags and went up one flight of stairs, hesitantly knocking on Carol’s bedroom door.</p><p>“Come in,” came a muffled voice, and Lexa pushed the door open, not entirely sure what to expect, but somehow sure that she would never have expected <em>this.</em></p><p>Carol’s bedroom was homely, it was lovely, and it was covered in photos. Snapshots of Carol and a man—who Lexa assumed was James—littered the walls, picture frames were propped against the mirror and nightstand. It was a collage, and it was beautiful. But after that initial appreciation faded, she felt nothing but intense sorrow.</p><p>Because Carol—who understood Clarke, who seemed like an older version of Clarke—was more like Lexa than she’d ever imagine, surrounding herself with the pain, forcing herself to feel the loss in order to never forget what had been taken.</p><p>“Clarke packs everything away,” Carol muttered, looking around at the photos. “She says happy memories turn into sad ones. But she’s wrong.” She smiled reaching out and tracing a finger over her husband’s face. “I can’t pack James away. I can’t let myself forget him.”</p><p>“I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it.” Carol laughed, and she stood, walking over to Lexa and placing her hands on her shoulders.</p><p>“Endless kindness and patience, and an astounding capacity to forgive. James would have loved you, and that’s the greatest compliment I could possibly give.”</p><p>“I didn’t want to leave. Without saying I’m sorry. And goodbye. But mostly, I wanted to thank you.” Carol looked confused, looked like she wanted to argue, so Lexa hurried on, needing to say her piece (after all, it wasn’t only Clarke she needed to consider speaking to). “You were there for me, Mrs. Griffin, when I thought I was alone. You were my friend when I thought I didn’t have any. And you made my family bigger.” She didn’t need to say more, didn’t need to explain how she’d grown to love the Griffin family, how each of them, in their own ridiculous ways, had helped glue her back together. How their head—their matriarch—had supported Lexa the most, had ensured she never stumbled. (She didn’t need to explain that the near two weeks she’d spent at the Griffin home were exactly what she needed.) “Thank you Mrs. Griffin. For just…thank you.” It spoke volumes that Carol merely nodded and pulled Lexa into a hug, holding her tightly, as if the ‘honorary granddaughter’ title had lost its honor.</p><p>“Griffins sure do know how to pick them,” she muttered, wiping at her cheeks as she pulled away.</p><p>“Any advice? Now that I’m leaving?” Carol smiled, sniffling just a little.</p><p>“Yes, don’t ask an old woman for advice.” Lexa grinned and turned to leave, but Carol held her back. “She was the one who said she didn’t deserve you.” Lexa’s grin slipped off her face, and she merely nodded, feeling just a tad sick.</p><p>“What if she’s right?”</p><p>“After James passed, I thought had three choices. Pack his things away, throw them out, or just leave it up. I wonder if I made the right choice sometimes.”</p><p>“About keeping his stuff?”</p><p>“About not letting myself move on. Because there’s a fourth choice, Lexa. You can just move on.” She smiled, and it was bitter, and it was heartbreaking, and it was full of pain. “Sometimes, all you need is a little closure.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Her apartment had never felt so empty.</p><p>It was always devoid of life, that much Lexa knew. When she lived with Clarke, life was a permanent fixture: herbs and shrubs and small pots of fragrant flowers filled the apartment. Clarke’s artwork hung on the walls, scuffmarks made by Clarke’s shoes on the wooden floor had never been taken care of, the small dent in the wall in their living room where Clarke accidentally knocked a chair over had merely been covered up, and clothes and paper and paint and books littered the floor. When she lived with Clarke, there was an innate messiness that she could never quite keep up with, but it turned the small apartment into <em>their</em>home. When she walked in, the paintings, the scuffmark, the dent, the mess, it all spoke volumes, it all was alive (she was home, she was home, she was <em>home</em>).</p><p>The walls of her current apartment were bare. Her floors were pristine. Clothes were in the hamper, papers on her desk, books on the shelves. Everything had its own place, where it belonged, where it was meant to be, except perhaps, for the person who lived there—the sole animate being, the only one out of whack, out of place, out of sorts. Her apartment, bare and cold and empty, had never felt permanent, had never seemed like a long-term solution (for maybe, in her heart of hearts, she’d always expected Clarke to say something, to break the wall between them, to give her an answer one way or the other and let her move on from the purgatory she could not leave on her own).</p><p>(She had never expected the accident, she had never expected the lies and loss and longing that would result.) </p><p>Lexa tossed her bags onto the floor and collapsed onto her couch, staring up at the blank ceiling (she remembered with a pang of fondness how there was a small red splash in her and Clarke’s home, where Raven had accidentally squirted cranberry juice).</p><p>(She only wondered if it was telling that she still considered the old apartment hers and Clarke’s for a moment. Because though her thoughts constantly dragged her towards Clarke—towards seeing her again—for the first time, her heart rebelled.)</p><p><em>No more pain</em>, she thought as she closed her eyes.</p><p>
  <em>No more pain. </em>
</p><p>Once, she realized, she had believed she knew all there was to know about Clarke. Knew that she was honest and kind, knew that she did anything for her friends, loyal to a fault. Knew, even, that despite being quick to judge and slightly insensitive, she was always the first to admit when she’d done wrong by someone. She once thought she knew the truths to Clarke Griffin, three truths that had dwindled down to one: falling in love with her was an inevitable, unavoidable, ineluctable mistake. Once, she trusted Carol’s notion of love being like a limitless source of energy that she chose to keep focused on Clarke. Once, she believed that it wasn’t possible to fall out of love. (She still believed that, somewhat.)</p><p>Once, it was a foregone conclusion that she’d choose Clarke again and again and again, but for the first time, Lexa wondered if she was better off without the choice at all.</p><p><em>Cut her out, no more pain. </em>Lexa opened her eyes slowly, searching for the red spot, her heart sinking when she remembered where she was, when she recalled the time and space that now separated what was easy from what was hard. (It was a distinction she no longer knew if she knew how to make, after all, what would be more difficult to face: to forgive a friend for breaking your heart, or to forever lose a friend you were still in love with despite everything they’d done?)</p><p>She wished suddenly, more than anything, that she could go back in time, go back and pinpoint the exact moment words stopped being shared, feelings began being repressed, the moment a solid friendship had turned into a farce. She’d assumed for so long that it’d been the morning after the accident, after Gustus Greene’s death, after the weight of the world had been shifted onto her shoulders, and she looked around only to see her support—her Clarke—was gone. But it occurred to her, as she thought about the way Clarke’s shoulders had hunched as if she felt she deserved the pain Lexa was inflicting, that she was wrong.</p><p>So when? When had it all fallen apart? When had things gone so awry? When did it get so hard?</p><p>Was it when Lexa moved out? Was it when she kissed Clarke that second time? Or even further back, when she knew she liked Clarke more than just a friend and it sent shards of glass through her heart every time Clarke even mentioned Finn?</p><p><em>No more pain</em>, she thought, wanting to shut her eyes and mind and heart to everything. She’d had enough, she reached her breaking point, she couldn’t tolerate anymore. But a nagging voice at the deepest, furthest, darkest recesses of her chest, wouldn’t let it go.</p><p><em>What about Clarke’s pain</em>?</p><p>Had she been oblivious to it? Oblivious to the way Clarke never could maintain eye contact when Lexa spoke of her dates, oblivious to the way she’d sounded when Lexa offhandedly mentioned the two of them dating, oblivious to that fact that Clarke had noticed their distance far before she did, oblivious to the pain etched on Clarke’s features when she moved out the way she did—without warning, slipping away like a thief in the night?</p><p><em>I miss you</em>, Clarke had said. <em>I kissed you back</em>. Had Lexa expected too much from her? Had she wanted an outright confession of Clarke’s feelings without even acknowledging that perhaps Clarke was as terrified of ruining their friendship as she was? Had she wanted Clarke to take the first step, again and again, slinking further away into her own shell each time Clarke chose not to risk their friendship over something more? (The same way, she realized, she had: choosing to merely keep silent and swallow back the hurt because losing the friendship was unthinkable.)</p><p><em>Abandonment issues and trust issues</em>, Carol had said. And Lexa understood, understood where Clarke was coming from. Because Lexa had left long before she moved out of the apartment. Out of a desire to spare her own feelings—to keep her pain at bay—she had emotionally distanced herself from Clarke long before she physically left. <em>I miss you</em>. Lexa swallowed back her tears. <em>You always leave</em>. Lexa had thought she just meant that she was too reserved, too withdrawn, had believed it wasn’t fair for Clarke to hold that against her. She realized now that Clarke was being much more literal.</p><p>Unlike the moment in the Griffin’s kitchen, however, when everything clicked into place and she <em>understood</em>Clarke’s desperate plea, Lexa was still confused and frustrated. In the kitchen, saying the safe word, the name of the library that held so many good memories for them, was the only thing to be done. <em>What kind of asshole best friend wants to hear the fucking safe word? </em>Clarke had asked, and Lexa wanted to shake her, wanted to shout at her. The sort of best friend who would shoulder all the blame, Lexa had realized at that moment, the sort of best friend who believed she <em>deserved</em>the pain. The sort of best friend who knew Lexa, who knew that she’d bear all even if it was unbearable. The sort of best friend who wanted to put an end to their cycle (their own personal fucked up cycle). <em>Clarke could give you a run for your money in the self-doubt and self-hatred and self-blame department, </em>Carol had said, and hadn’t Clarke proved that by actively hoping to push Lexa so far that she would give up? (It made sense to Lexa because that was exactly what she had done, repeatedly push Clarke away, hoping against hope that the pain wouldn’t consume her.)</p><p>But none of that explained why Clarke lied to Abby. It didn’t explain why she asked Lexa to go with her in the first place, it didn’t explain what she blamed herself for at all. But understanding all that, understanding all that meant speaking with Clarke, meant opening up lines of communication that had been boarded up for years. It meant breaking their destructive cycle in her own way, not by permanently abandoning Clarke, but by showing her she didn’t have to leave at all.</p><p>Lexa stared at her ceiling, Abby’s words coming back to her. She thought of how Carol had told her to move on, holding Lexa to the promise she’d made what felt like ions earlier. But for the first time, Lexa didn’t want anyone’s advice, she didn’t care what others thought of the situation, didn’t care that they were trying to help. For the first time, Lexa realized the choice ultimately came down to her—she had to do what <em>she</em>wanted, what <em>she</em>thought was right.</p><p>And really, there were three truths, three undeniable, unequivocal truths to Clarke Griffin, three truths that truly mattered: One, she was kind. Two, she was loyal to a fault. Three, she always did her best to right her wrongs. So what had happened to turn these truths into lies?</p><p>Lexa sat up slowly, realizing what needed to be done.</p><p>(It took two days before she was ready to act on it.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>She’d memorized what she wanted to say, sure that when the door opened, the English language would suddenly fail her. It was a strange feeling, knocking on the door to the apartment she once lived in, once considered a home. But she knocked nonetheless, ignoring the fact that there was a key hidden beneath the mat (placed there after Clarke repeatedly forgot her keys). She swallowed hard as the door opened, revealing a disheveled-looking Clarke.</p><p>“Lexa?” she said, her eyes wide, her mouth falling open, her tone disbelieving (as if she was sure it was all a dream, that it could not possibly be reality).</p><p>"Everyone has told me to give you a chance to explain." Lexa laughed, but it was forced, and there were tears impairing her vision, Clarke's visage turning into nothing more than a blurry blob. "And I didn't want to." Clarke was silent, stood still, seemed stricken, and Lexa plowed on, needing to get the words out because she knew she would never have the courage again. "But here I am, Clarke. I’m waiting outside your door, like you did for me. I’m not abandoning you, I’m not leaving.” She took a deep breath, blinking away the tears, clearing her vision. “So it's your turn. Show me that I can still trust you. Show me that I’m not wrong for having faith in you. Just tell me the <em>truth</em>." Clarke didn't hesitate; one moment she was lingering in the doorway to what used to be their shared apartment, and the next, she surged forward, arms flung around Lexa's neck, face pressed against Lexa's shoulder.</p><p>"God, Lexa, you’re actually here,” she said, her voice muffled against Lexa’s shoulder. She pulled away, taking a single step back, her blue, blue eyes not once wavering from Lexa’s, her chin held high, her shoulders taking on a determined set, as if she was about to go to war. “So the truth?” Lexa nodded, and Clarke swallowed, her stance falling apart as she shrugged crookedly. “There’s so much I have to tell you, Lexa,” she murmured, not breaking eye contact, yet looking more vulnerable and scared than Lexa had ever seen her. “And I will, I’ll tell you everything. But it really basically comes down to one thing.”</p><p>“The truth, Clarke,” Lexa prompted, and Clarke didn’t close her eyes like she expected her to, she didn’t tap her fingers against her thigh, she didn’t look up and away. All of Clarke’s tells, useless in that moment. (And that was how Lexa knew, knew that Clarke was being honest, because she was no longer trying to hide.)</p><p>“The truth,” she said, her voice clear, her tone urgent, as if this had been on the tip of her tongue for far too long, desperate to claw its way out of its holding cell, and now finally had its chance. “The truth is that I’m in love with you, and I have been for a very long time.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: once upon a time, I told myself I'd go back and write the whole thing in Clarke's pov. I'm such a joker</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Get dressed.” The command came out more gruffly than Lexa intended, and Clarke’s mouth fell open.</p><p>“That’s nice, it’s what every girl wants to hear when she confesses her love.”</p><p>“Take off the nightclothes and put on something decent. You’re coming with me.”</p><p>“Lexa, I—”</p><p>“You said you’d explain everything. I’m holding you to it.” Clarke stared at her in disbelief.</p><p>“Thanks, Clarke,” she muttered, turning around and heading back inside the apartment, Lexa following closely at her heels. “It was nice of you to say that. Here I am, having some sort of reaction to your confession. I’m not just waving it off and telling you to get dressed.”</p><p>“I can hear you,” Lexa called, leaning against Clarke’s bedroom door, listening as Clarke threw drawers open, mumbling about not finding a clean pair of socks.</p><p>“I know, Lexa, that’s the point,” Clarke snapped, and Lexa swallowed hard at the flood of memories, all the early mornings, calmly eating her breakfast as Clarke rushed around their apartment, searching for things she’d misplaced, snapping and shouting as she went. Without really knowing why, she walked towards the living room, her eyes on the ceiling, zeroing in on the red stain almost immediately. “I’m ready. Lexa?” She blinked, turned and faced Clarke, and quickly tamped down on the feelings that swelled up in her as she took in her best friend. She tried to push it away, but the words came ringing back. <em>The truth is that I’m in love with you</em>. How long had she hoped to hear those words? How long had she imagined it? (Too long, too long.) And yet, though the words were out—though she wanted nothing more than to press Clarke against the nearest wall, to tell her everything she’d never said with her hands and lips—she swallowed hard a second time and nodded gruffly.</p><p>“Let’s go.”</p><p>“Why can’t we talk here?”</p><p>“Because this wasn’t where it started.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Campus was practically empty, students off on their winter break, faculty and staff taking a much-deserved break. They walked side by side, not speaking, not allowing their hands to brush as they often did, their eyes focused on the building they approached.</p><p>“It’s cold, Lexa. And we’re not students anymore, we won’t be let in the library.”</p><p>“Stop whining and come on.” Clarke huffed, but she obeyed, following Lexa to a bench across from the library, settling down next to her, letting out big puffs of air and smiling slightly at the sight of her breath. “All right then, Clarke. This is where it started.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Clarke muttered, shoving her hands into her coat pockets, careful not to brush Lexa at all. “This is it.”</p><p>“So when did it fall apart?” At Lexa’s words, Clarke turned to her with a small frown, a furrow between her brows.</p><p>“Well, that’s obvious.”</p><p>“Is it?”</p><p>“It fell apart when I fell in love with you.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Later, she’d think one thing: it was entirely Lexa’s fault.</p><p>She’d known—it was really rather impossible to <em>not</em>know—for a while that the things she felt for the brunette were far different than the things she felt for Bellamy, Raven, or Octavia. Oh, she loved them all. She even loved them equally. But with <em>Lexa</em>.</p><p>With <em>Lexa</em>she could never get enough.</p><p>It was like breathing, it was like her art, it was like a fucking drug. She had to be around Lexa, had to see her smile, had to hear her laugh. A single day without her by her side was a day wasted. It was all rather alarming considering she hadn’t even known Lexa that long (so unlike Raven or Octavia who she’d basically known her entire life).</p><p>But the <em>kiss</em>. It was that first kiss. She blamed it all on that kiss. (And on Lexa, but Lexa was the instigator of the kiss, and thus, the kiss and Lexa were one and the same and she blamed them both.)</p><p>She’d known her feelings were different, but she had assumed it was because Lexa was her <em>best</em>friend. The one who understood her, the one who could calm her down, the one who could make her laugh, the one whose mere presence left her heart palpitating and quite possibly making her go into cardiac arrest. But with the kiss—oh, the kiss left nothing to doubt, left nothing to chance, made it <em>abundantly</em>clear why the feelings were different. (The fact that she <em>knew</em>, the fact that she was <em>sure</em>of why it was different, didn’t change anything. She knew, and yet she resolutely refused to admit it to herself, because admitting it would make it true, and that wasn’t something she could handle.)</p><p>Because Lexa’s mouth barely brushed hers, because it was a sloppy kiss that tasted like beer and fries, because it left her head spinning with a single, monumental thought:</p><p>
  <em>Uh oh. </em>
</p><p>Her feelings were not those of friendship (though it was an unequivocal fact that <em>Lexa</em>was her best friend). Her feelings were so much more, so much deeper, so much more insane and all Clarke wanted to do was punch Lexa for doing this because it was<em>entirely</em>her fault.</p><p>Because who wouldn’t feel this way with <em>Lexa</em>? With her crooked grin and sarcastic comments? With her (annoyingly) ever-present calm, her wittiness, with her ability to make the most mundane of things fun and exciting? <em>Lexa</em>, who brought her muffins and coffee when she was nervous, who intuitively knew how to act around her, who never, ever, not for one moment, thought of herself. (Who got flustered over Raven’s teasing, over her shoddy artwork, over admitting to Clarke things she hated admitting, like whether or not she liked Chinese.)</p><p>Lexa was <em>Lexa</em>, and Clarke stood no chance against her. She rammed her way in, not caring about the fact that Clarke had most definitely <em>not</em>issued an invitation for her to take up residence in her heart.</p><p>You weren’t <em>supposed</em>to feel this way, Clarke knew. Not at only twenty. Not so young, not when she barely knew what she wanted to eat for dinner that night, let alone who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with (but she <em>did </em>know, she wanted to live with Lexa, forever only Lexa, and that<em>terrified</em>her, and she refused to admit her feelings, refused to put a name to it).</p><p>So she blamed Lexa, blamed her for being perfect, blamed her for the feelings, blamed her and wanted her and was desperate to tell her. (She refused to admit it to herself, but loving Lexa, oh, loving Lexa—that was <em>entirely</em>Lexa’s fault. Her fault for being it, her fault for being unapologetically herself, unapologetically kind, unapologetically wonderful. And Clarke, oh Clarke, she fell hard and fast, and she had no idea what to do under the enormity of what she felt.)</p><p>(So she kept silent.)</p><p>(That was mistake number one.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t believe it, not for one second,” Lexa muttered, shaking her head, the tips of her fingers getting cold despite the gloves she wore. She thought that Clarke’s cheeks were paler, the tip of her nose just a tad red.</p><p>“Believe what?”</p><p>“Believe that you knew you felt that way since the first kiss.” Clarke huffed, looking away and shrugging.</p><p>“You wanted the truth, Lexa. And that’s the truth.”</p><p>“That would mean you felt that way a full year longer than I did. That’s just not possible, Clarke. I’d have noticed.” Clarke’s head, which had swiveled towards Lexa halfway through her comment, was suddenly too close for Lexa’s comfort.</p><p>“Was that an admission?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Lexa, that—”</p><p>“You said you’d tell me the truth, Clarke. Keep going.”  </p><p>“Your crooked grin is back.”</p><p>“Don’t try to distract me, it won’t work. Keep going.”</p><p>“You’re stilling grinning.”</p><p>“Clarke.”</p><p>“I know, I know. I’m telling you the truth.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Finn was mistake number two.</p><p>She’d liked him for a while. In a sense. In the broadest of senses. (He was cute. He was caring. He was compassionate and loved her.)</p><p>(She never loved him.)</p><p>“Dammit Clarke! Why are we even arguing? If you didn’t want to go, you should’ve just said it.”</p><p>“I’m not going to deal with your shit, Finn.” She turned to leave, but he reached out, grabbing her wrist.</p><p>“Where’re you going? To Lexa? Running off to your best friend?”</p><p>“Yeah, actually, I am. What of it?”</p><p>“You know she doesn’t love you, right? You realize that, don’t you? Fuck, Clarke. <em>I’m</em><em>here</em>. And I’m all in, all in for us. But you keep picking fights. Why? What do you think you’re going to get?” <em>Lexa. </em>The thought didn’t take her by surprise, not really. Because though Finn was an ass, he was an intuitive ass. He knew what was up.</p><p>She’d said yes to him—went out with him—purely because she wanted to try to cover up the feelings she had for Lexa. She wasn’t even entirely subtle about it, hell, she was sure the entire world knew she had feelings for her best friend at this point (except, of course, for her best friend, her best friend who’d <em>never</em>see her in this light, who’d be there for her but never want to be <em>with</em>her). Lexa the battering ram had left Clarke shaking in the wreckage, and Finn was a capable construction worker. He could build her up, repair her, and if she was being unfair to him…well, he’d known what he was getting into. He’d always known (he’d never really made that a secret, using it against her constantly).</p><p>“This isn’t about her at all.”</p><p>“Don’t bullshit me, Clarke. It’s always about her. You’re pissed off because she’s been distant. You’re better off without her, but you don’t fucking see it.”</p><p>“Finn. It has nothing to do with her. I’m angry because you’re being an ass.” (That was true. She’d tried. She’d tried so hard with Finn. Gave him her all, her best, but her heart wasn’t in it, and though Finn still held out hope, Clarke knew why—some things could only work in the hands of a select few, in this case, only in Lexa’s.) </p><p>(It was <em>entirely</em>Lexa’s fault.)</p><p>“Clarke. Just. Listen to me.” His voice changed, her grew softer, the part of him that Clarke always liked shone through. “She’s just hurting you. You know that. You said it yourself. You barely talk anymore.”</p><p>“She’s my best friend.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he muttered, his shoulders deflating. (Clarke never felt more sorry for him than at that moment, that moment when he seemed to realize the hopelessness of his cause.) “I’ll still be here, Clarke. When she’s gone, when she’s forgotten you, I’ll still be here. Because <em>I</em>love you.”</p><p>“I’m going, Finn.”</p><p>She left, immediately seeking Lexa’s embrace, Lexa’s warmth, <em>Lexa</em>, and as always, when Lexa saw her in pain, the distance between them, the pained words, the strange cloud that hung between them, all was gone. Lexa saw her in pain, and <em>Lexa</em>was back (<em>Lexa</em>the battering ram, and Clarke reveled in the ache that took up residence in her chest, the pain overwhelming and overpowering all the feelings that she could never seem to run away from).</p><p>And for a night, for a night, they were fine. They were themselves. And Clarke loved Lexa.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Their shoulders brushed now, but Lexa assumed it was only because of the cold, the both of them intuitively seeking the nearest heat source. But then, with a move that left Lexa feeling breathless, knocking the air out of her lungs and her cheeks burn from the effort it took not to smile, Clarke leaned her head on Lexa’s shoulder, effectively eliminating the last of the distance between them.</p><p>“I never realized how pretty our campus was in the winter,” she said, playing with her scarf, her eyes on her lap.</p><p>“I always hated Finn.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I didn’t think he was good enough for you.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I thought I was good enough for you. And I hated him because he didn’t let you see it.” Clarke’s hands ceased playing with the ends of her scarf and instead she tentatively reached out, silently asking Lexa for permission. And after a long moment, Lexa pulled her hand out of her coat pocket, letting Clarke hook their arms together, their fingers tangled.</p><p>“I didn’t know that,” she whispered, head still on Lexa’s shoulder, grip on Lexa’s hand tight. “There’s more. Sure I should continue? It’s not pretty.”</p><p>“We’ll see. Keep going.” </p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Never, not in a million years, would she ever consider the second kiss a mistake.</p><p>On one hand, she realized that made her sound like a bit of a dick—she had a boyfriend, for god’s sake, she was in a <em>committed</em>relationship. (Though, as she’d later learn, she’d been far more committed than Finn ever was, and she’d taken the farce of a relationship far more seriously—even head over heels for her best friend—than Finn ever had.)</p><p>On the other hand, it was <em>Lexa</em>.</p><p>The party was supposed to be <em>fun</em>, but though Lexa was back, she wasn’t <em>really</em>back. She was aloof, even <em>cold</em>with Clarke, speaking with her in curt tones, as if she was physically holding herself back, as if she wanted nothing to do with Clarke. And so, in a moment of childish frustration, Clarke fled, fled to the safety and sanctuary of her room. (But of course, she wasn’t safe even there.)</p><p>“Where’s Finn?” Lexa asked, entirely too close (it was always <em>entirely</em>her fault).</p><p>“We’re in a fight.” <em>Another one</em>, she didn’t say. <em>About you</em>, she didn’t say. <em>I want to leave him</em>, she didn’t say. <em>I love you</em>, she didn’t say.</p><p>“Another one?” The question, really, made Clarke want to shake her, because <em>of course</em>Lexa would hear the one thing she didn’t say that she didn’t give a fuck about.</p><p>“Yeah,” she answered, close to rolling her eyes. Instead, she shifted, facing Lexa on the bed. “I feel like you and I aren’t really talking anymore.” Her heart—oh, she’d forgotten for a while that she had one, forgotten that it was there as it felt so dead for so long—thudded against her ribs, as if it wanted to escape (a wise idea, Clarke would later realize, her heart merely wanted to avoid the train-wreck). “I miss you.”</p><p>“I’m right here.”</p><p>“Yeah. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, did you know that?” She didn’t know why she said it—she was thinking it, she was <em>always</em>thinking it—but she was better at pretending around Lexa, terrified that she’d leave for good, terrified that she’d lose the friendship she had, terrified of being too open because she knew for a fact that Lexa would never return those feelings—</p><p><em>Uh oh</em>.</p><p>Clarke’s first thought, oddly enough, was that Lexa tasted like home. After that, she determinedly <em>stopped</em>thinking, and just allowed herself to feel. She pulled Lexa forward, needing her to see, needing her to feel, needing her to <em>understand</em>. She put everything she had into the kiss, because maybe Lexa felt it too. Maybe Lexa understood her yet again, maybe, maybe she’d endured pain for no reason, maybe this was something they shared. She kissed Lexa back, wanting more, always wanting more. It was a heady feeling, a rush of<em>something</em>, and she never wanted it to stop—this was her new fix, she needed this every day, she’d choose this every day, this was better than her art, than breathing.</p><p>But just as Clarke allowed herself to believe there was something there, Lexa was gone, practically falling off the bed in her haste to get away.</p><p>“Lexa—” she began, ready to say it all, ready to admit it all, <em>ready</em>. But Lexa interrupted her.</p><p>“Oh, god, I’m so sorry. God. You have a boyfriend. What am I doing?” She was across the room in the blink of an eye, and Clarke sat up, ready to try again, ready, <em>ready. </em></p><p>“Lexa, no—”</p><p>“I’m just drunk, I’m so sorry. I’m drunk.” Lexa had always been a battering ram, Clarke just hadn’t realized battering rams weren’t necessarily<em>good</em>things.</p><p>“I kissed you back,” she tried, wanting Lexa to see, trying hard to stem the tears that threatened to fall.</p><p>“You’ve been drinking too?” She wanted Lexa to see, but judging by the horror on Lexa’s face, she didn’t like what she’d seen. And Clarke, Clarke was used to the pain. The ache was familiar. She took comfort in it—reveled in the pain.</p><p>“Yeah,” she murmured, hanging her head, not wanting Lexa to see her face.</p><p>“God, Clarke. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m tired and drunk and an idiot. Can you forgive me?” <em>For what? </em>she wanted to ask. <em>Why are you sorry? Why do you want forgiveness? I </em>wanted<em>this. Did you? </em>But instead:</p><p>“Of course. Already forgiven.”</p><p>“Clarke,” Lexa said desperately, like she needed Clarke to hear her—but Clarke heard her loud and clear, she didn’t want to listen to more. “It didn’t mean anything, I swear.”</p><p>She’d never understood the term ‘heartbroken.’ She studied biology, the heart was a muscle, nothing more. A pump, liters of blood being sent to every single corner of the body, sustaining life. If it broke, you died. But in that moment, in that moment—oh, she understood. <em>Heartbroken</em>. It was nothing like the ache she was used to (the ache she so often took comfort in). It was a shattering, it was a shard thrust right through the middle of her most important organ, it was a divide (because Lexa had taken the last remnants of her heart—the last bits she’d not yet managed to steal as Clarke fell deeper and deeper for her—and stomped on them).</p><p>She’d never understood the term ‘heartbroken.’ Oh, but she did now.</p><p>“It meant nothing at all,” Clarke managed to say. “I don’t really feel all that well, I think I’m going to just stay here and try to sleep.”</p><p>“Okay. Do you want anything? Tea, soup, or—” <em>It was entirely Lexa’s fault. For being kind. Selfless. For fucking kissing her and claiming it meant nothing when it was </em>everything.</p><p>“No. No, just being alone would be nice.”</p><p>“Okay. Let me know if you need me.”</p><p><em>I need you</em>.</p><p>But Lexa didn’t hear her.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“I was waiting for you to say something,” Lexa said quietly, taking a shaky breath. “I needed you to say it first, because I couldn’t risk you.”</p><p>“Yeah. But I tried to say it. And you—”</p><p>“—wouldn’t let you?” Clarke grinned and ducked her head, but Lexa forced her to look back up by nudging her shoulder. “It was a good kiss.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“It was.”</p><p>“I broke up with Finn because of that kiss. I mean, mostly it was because he was cheating on me. But the kiss, the kiss definitely factored in.”</p><p>“That was the night I realized I had to move out. Because I couldn’t do it anymore. Be around you without being with you.”</p><p>“That wasn’t what you said.”</p><p>“No,” Lexa admitted. “No, it wasn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>She no longer found the pain comforting. Three words, three simple, ridiculous, confusing words, turned a pain she took refuge in into something horrifying, something that left her in pieces: “Clarke, I’m leaving.” </p><p>The words that followed, the accusations, the slings, they were nothing compared to the first three words. Because she’d kept silent for so long, had held back so long, out of fear that Lexa would leave her for good, that Lexa wouldn’t want anything to do with her, and though she’d done her best—though she’d done everything she could—Lexa was leaving anyway.</p><p>The issues with money, Clarke understood. Lexa never wanted to be beholden to anyone, not even Clarke or her mother. Even the part about needing to focus on law school made sense, Clarke could appreciate it, could reason with it.</p><p>But it was the rest, it was the rest—and the three words at the beginning—that left her heaving yet unable to breathe, her heart beating yet unable to keep her living. It was the rest of Lexa’s tirade, the look in her eyes, the determination in her shoulders, that left Clarke reeling, left her standing in the middle of Lexa’s bare bedroom, her head spinning.</p><p>“It’s hard to talk to you, Clarke,” Lexa continued, maybe not seeing the pain she was causing, maybe not caring about it, maybe not minding it, maybe. “Because every time I try to tell you something you just ignore it.”</p><p>“So not only am I a distraction to you, but I’m also a shitty friend,” Clarke snapped, suddenly angry, feeling a fire ignite in the base of her belly. Because Lexa <em>always </em>left. She was leaving now. <em>It was entirely her fault</em>. “Well I’m glad you decided to move out, who knows how long I’d fool myself into thinking we’re best friends if you hadn’t.”</p><p>“Clarke—” But it was Clarke’s turn to not listen, her turn to cut Lexa off, her turn to fire back.</p><p>“No, I get it. We’re just two people who live together. Certainly not friends.”</p><p>“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? Because I’m not, I have to do this.”</p><p>“Why? Why do you have to do this? Why in this way?” (She wouldn’t admit it, would never dare, but this was what hurt the most, not that Lexa wanted to leave, but that Lexa didn’t feel she could trust Clarke enough to just tell her that she wanted to leave.) “Why without even a word of warning?”</p><p>“Because you don’t <em>get </em>it,” Lexa said, her voice harsh, shrill, jarring. “Everything is easy for you! Everything has been given to you. So you don’t try and you’re holding me back. You’re dragging me to bars and force me to listen to shit about your boyfriend or girlfriend of the week and you’re just…you’re holding me back.” Clarke blinked, feeling as if all systems had shut down, overloaded and broken. Because this, this didn’t make any sense.</p><p>“Oh.” She looked at Lexa, took in pained expression on her face, and she found she didn’t know what to feel. “I’m sorry.” Her lungs, her lungs had lost their elasticity. They weren’t filling with air, she couldn’t breathe, she was suffocating. “You’re right.” She desperately held onto her middle, vainly hoping to alleviate the crushing feeling inside her. Because after everything, after <em>everything</em>, Lexa was still leaving. “I wish you the <em>best</em>of luck, Lexa. In everything you do.”</p><p><em>It was entirely her fault</em>.</p><p>That was all Clarke could think as Lexa left without looking back. It was all Clarke could think when she didn’t get out of bed for the next two days. It was all she could think when she began to merely go through the motions, listening and laughing and living because she knew that was what she was <em>supposed</em>to do.</p><p>(It was all she thought when Finn came around saying bullshit. It was all she thought when Raven and Octavia told her to get her shit together. It was all she thought as she studied for classes that hadn’t even started yet.)</p><p>(When Lexa called her three weeks after leaving, however, when she tentatively asked if Clarke wanted to get a coffee, to catch up, Clarke forgot entirely about her mantra and said yes.)</p><p>(Because when it came to Lexa, anything was better than nothing at all.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>They didn’t speak, not for a long while, the two of them shivering in the cold, looking out on Emerson Library, the silence broken only by the occasional sniffle. Finally, Lexa turned to look at Clarke.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Already forgiven.”</p><p>“It shouldn’t be.”</p><p>“I wasn’t fair to you. I was in love with you but dated Finn. And after breaking up with him…well, I wasn’t exactly celibate.”</p><p>“I wasn’t better. I should’ve spoken to you. I should’ve told you something. Leaving the way I did and saying the things I did…”</p><p>“At least, in terms of the magnitude of our mistakes, yours was relatively harmless.”</p><p>“I hurt you. How is that harmless?” Clarke’s eyes, her blue, blue eyes, bored into Lexa’s. And there was no pain. There were no walls. But there was so much guilt, so much self-hate, and Lexa didn’t know how to make it go away.</p><p>“I hurt you worse.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>When it came down to it, the accident was <em>entirely</em>Clarke’s fault. Gustus Greene’s death was <em>entirely</em>Clarke’s fault. Finn’s incarceration was <em>entirely</em>Clarke’s fault. Because Clarke, Clarke was <em>entirely</em>to blame.</p><p>She shouldn’t have said Finn could come (regardless of the promises to ‘stay friends,’ promises she knew were never sincere). She shouldn’t have had so much to drink (but Lexa was there, Lexa was beautiful, Lexa smiled her crooked grin and Clarke needed to distract herself somehow, and she ended up distracting herself with her drinks). She shouldn’t have asked Lexa to take Finn’s drunken ass home (she knew they hated each other, she knew Finn always blamed Lexa for the fact that he and Clarke never worked out, knew that Lexa hated Finn because Finn was fucking Finn).</p><p>She shouldn’t have allowed it to happen. She should’ve known better.</p><p>It was <em>entirely</em>her fault.</p><p>Getting the call from Bellamy was a blow. There was a certain physicality to it, even if miles and wires separated them. She felt the words, felt them hit her head on, knocking her off balance, crushing her with their weight. (It was <em>her fault, </em>she knew<em>.</em>It was <em>entirely</em>her fault.) The guilt was too much, the pain overwhelming, and her only coherent thought was to call Lexa.</p><p>“How could you just leave him?” Clarke asked, desperate for something to latch onto, desperate for something to keep the guilt at bay. Because maybe if she’d never dated Finn, he wouldn’t have been there. Maybe he would never have gotten drunk. Even more importantly, maybe, maybe if she just hadn’t been around, none of it would have happened at all. She wouldn’t have fallen for Lexa, Finn wouldn’t have been treated so unfairly, and Gustus Greene, Gustus Greene would still be alive. (“There’re kids, Clarke,” Bellamy had said, solemn, his voice devoid of blame, but Clarke heard it anyway: <em>How could you? </em>he wanted to know. She wanted to know as well, wanted to know how on earth she could allow something like this to happen. But for once, she and Lexa weren’t on the same wavelength.)</p><p>“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Lexa said harshly, <em>defensively</em>, and Clarke didn’t understand.</p><p>“Lexa, I’m the murderer,” she whispered, needing her best friend to hear, needing her best friend to understand, needing her support and comfort—to take refuge in the ache, to find safety and solace in Lexa’s embrace. But their wavelengths were still out of sync, a destructive interference, erasing everything that’d ever been there.</p><p>“You know what, Clarke? I think we’re better off alone. Dealing with this away from each other.”</p><p>“Lexa—” But the call was over, and Clarke was left shaking, was left alone, was left hating and blaming herself, unable to dig herself out of the hole she’d dug. And for the first time, she was <em>angry</em>with Lexa, angry that she wasn’t angry; she <em>hated</em>Lexa, hated that she couldn’t hate her. For the first time, she wondered if she was better off without Lexa at all.</p><p>(It wasn’t until much later that Clarke learned Lexa dealt with far worse.)</p><p>(That was mistake number three.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“That makes no sense,” Lexa said immediately, crossing her arms over her chest, getting to her feet and facing Clarke. “That makes no sense and you know it. You <em>blamed </em>me.”</p><p>“I’ve said it again and again and again. I’ve never blamed you. Never. Not for what happened to Finn.” Lexa shook her head, leveling Clarke with an accusing gaze.</p><p>“I thought Griffins weren’t in the business of bullshitting, Clarke.” She leaned closer. “You said you’d tell the truth.”</p><p>“I <em>am</em>. I never blamed you.”</p><p>“Then why leave? Why abandon me when I needed you! Why? Why let me deal with the guilt alone?” Clarke, who had tears in her eyes at that point, stood up as well, her back straight, no longer willing to take and take, her shoulders stiff and strong.</p><p>“Because I didn’t know,” she said simply. When Lexa glared at her, she let out a soft sigh and elaborated. “I called,” she began slowly, her lower lip quivering, “because I needed you. And you, you just shot me down. Didn’t even listen. And I was <em>angry</em>. And I thought I was stupid for ever trusting you, stupid for falling for you. Just…stupid.” She swallowed hard, stepping forward and poking Lexa hard in the sternum. “I didn’t trust you and I was angry at you, and I forgot. I forgot that you…that you’re better than me. I forgot that you’d shoulder the blame, that you’d think it was your fault. I forgot, Lexa, because I was so caught up in what I was feeling. And for that, for being so fucking selfish, <em>I’m sorry. </em>But I never, ever, blamed you.” Lexa—who couldn’t feel her fingers and toes anymore, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or because her heart had long since stopped beating—stared at Clarke and wasn’t quite sure what to say.</p><p>“You were angry,” Lexa mumbled, “because you thought I’d left you again? Not because you thought I had anything to do with the accident?”</p><p>“That would be stupid,” Clarke muttered, snorting mirthlessly. “I’m the only one who’s to blame.”</p><p>“Fucked up cycle,” Lexa said pointedly, and Clarke blushed, sitting down.</p><p>“Like I said, I’m the only one to blame.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Visiting Finn wasn’t a mistake.</p><p>It was nearly two and a half months after the accident, and Clarke had been determinedly ignoring all of Finn’s calls and letters. Until one afternoon, when Raven actually bothered to open and read what he’d written rather than toss it out as they usually did.</p><p>“He mentions Lexa, Clarke.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Says he needs to talk to you about her. That it’s important.” Clarke rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the television, annoyed at the pang she felt in her chest at the very mention of Lexa.</p><p>“Finn can fuck off.”</p><p>“He says she visited him, Clarke.” For a long moment, Clarke didn’t breathe, then she shook her head, trying to act disinterested.</p><p>“He’s lying. It’s a trick. To get me to visit him.”</p><p>“Clarke, I don’t know…” Raven trailed off and Clarke, unable to help herself, pushed herself off the couch and walked over to Raven, snatching the letter out of her hands. She skimmed it quickly, only feeling sicker and sicker as she read, finally tossing it aside with faux carelessness.</p><p>“Lies,” she said easily. “It’s all lies.”</p><p>“It sounds like Lexa.”</p><p>“Finn is making shit up.”</p><p>“Clarke…I know you said not to talk about her, but she’s not doing so hot. You’re angry, but…have you thought that maybe you don’t have a reason to be?” Clarke stared at Raven, knowing that this was something she wanted to say for a while, always holding back in fear of being the tipping point, of breaking Clarke beyond repair. But there was no fear now—now, her only concern was for Lexa, and Clarke wanted to laugh. Because Lexa, oh Lexa, she had that effect.</p><p>She ended up seeing Finn not a week later. She learned three things from him:</p><p>One, Lexa blamed herself for the accident.</p><p>Two, he’d tried, in his own shitty way, to help her, and failed.</p><p>Three, their fucked-up cycle wasn’t one of blame.</p><p>“The better <em>wo</em>-man won,” Finn said, grinning as if this was an inside joke, the receiver pressed tightly against his ear. “Murderers don’t get happy endings, but you two do. You two should.”</p><p>(Visiting Finn wasn’t a mistake. But she did wish she had opened her eyes earlier and not needed the visit at all.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“You saw him at least three weeks before you even called me about pretending to be your girlfriend. If he opened your eyes, you sure took your fucking time.”</p><p>“I was going to call you the very next day. But your mom told me not to.” Lexa, who was still standing, arms crossed tightly over her chest, felt her knees go weak and immediately sat down. “She said that you wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say. She said I’d have to go about it in a smarter way.”</p><p>“My mother…my <em>mother</em>told you that? When did she talk to you?”</p><p>“She called to ask about the clinic. A few of the physicians who teach at the med school have connections there, she thought I might be able to help.”</p><p>“You…you knew she was sick? You helped get her into the clinic?”</p><p>“I knew she was sick, yes,” Clarke admitted. “I called her once, a few weeks after the accident. But talking about you morphed into talking about her health and we sort of kept up with each other. But my mom got her into the clinic. She pulled a few strings.” </p><p>“That’s…that’s why you didn’t look surprised when I told you she was sick. That’s why you just hugged me. Because you already knew.”</p><p>“She told me not to say anything until you were ready. She didn’t want you to know she’d asked for help, because she didn’t want you feeling worse. Feeling guilty.” But Lexa wasn’t listening, she dropped her head into her hands, feeling stupid.</p><p><em>I read up on her condition and emailed a few physicians from school</em>, Clarke had said. But Lexa hadn’t asked the obvious question: How had Clarke known her mother’s condition, something Lexa had never mentioned? (Had she let it go, assuming that Abby must’ve told her? Not questioned it because she was full of relief and couldn’t think of ruining it with questions she didn’t want answered?) How silly it was now, to think it’d been so obvious. How Clarke—inquisitive, curious, questioning, <em>caring</em>Clarke—hadn’t asked a single thing about her mother’s welfare. Not once. Why hadn’t that raised red flags?</p><p>“Oh my god, the cost—”</p><p>“Lexa—”</p><p>“I can pay—”</p><p>“Lexa, relax!” Clarke put her hands on Lexa’s shoulders, pressing down hard, forcing her to meet Clarke’s blue, blue eyes. “This is why she didn’t want to say anything. You’re freaking out.”</p><p>“But Clarke, while I thought you hated me, blamed me, you were finding my mom a spot in the clinic, and <em>god</em>, paying for it, and—”</p><p>“We didn’t pay for it. Lexa. Calm down.”</p><p>“Then—”</p><p>“When my grandfather passed away, he left money for things like this.” <em>Some old dude died, apparently, </em>Anya had said. <em>Left a lot of money for cases like ours. </em> </p><p>“You’re lying.”</p><p>“I said I’d tell you the truth. That’s the truth.” She frowned. “Well. We did have to part with his very large baseball card collection for it.”  </p><p>“Baseball cards?”</p><p>“Baseball cards.”</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin was willing to give up a part of her husband for me and my family?” Clarke snorted, knocking her shoulder with Lexa’s.</p><p>“Please. You <em>are</em>family. She’d do anything for you.” Clarke paused, a furrow appearing between her brows. “Come to think of it, she may love you more than me.” </p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>They walked around campus aimlessly, barely speaking. Conversation surged briefly, then fluttered and died out soon after, the cycle awkwardly repeating itself again and again. Finally, Lexa came to a halt, unsure how to word her final question—unsure if she needed to get the final truth from Clarke. Yet, her mouth had a mind of its own, and she was speaking before she knew what she was doing.</p><p>“So why ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Why want me to say the safe word?” She was sure she knew, sure because she knew Clarke, understood Clarke, for the first time in a long while, on the same page with her best friend. (But she also didn’t want to leave anything to chance; their problems arose because they stopped talking, and she wasn’t keen to make the same mistakes again so soon.)</p><p>“Be honest, Lexa. If I’d called you a few weeks ago and told you everything between us was just a huge misunderstanding, that I never blamed you, would you have believed me?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I was hurt,” she said, smiling and shrugging. “I was hurt, and I was angry. But the only one who deserves to be blamed is me. Asking for your help was just so that you wouldn’t be alone, so that you’d have all the support you could want. So that you could stop blaming yourself for everything.”</p><p>“And the safe word?”</p><p>“If you said it, I knew I’d done my job. You didn’t need a backbone, Lexa, regardless of what my grandmother said. You just needed the reminder that you’d done nothing wrong.”</p><p>“And asking me out?”</p><p>“I thought…we got into this entire mess because I never spoke up. I wanted to fix it. And I’m selfish. I wanted you.” Lexa nodded, noticing they’d made their way back to Emerson Library. It was odd, to think of it now, that it all started because Clarke had noticed her not study for her exams, because Clarke’s blue eyes had stood out on a wet, miserable day. And on some level, she knew she could walk away. She got her truth, she heard it all. She wasn’t obligated to try and forgive Bellamy, Raven, and Octavia, wasn’t obligated to stay behind and fix things with Clarke. She could move on, take Carol’s advice. She could stop it right there—cease their fucked up cycle, a cycle that wasn’t so fucked up anymore, a cycle that reached its natural end. But it was <em>Clarke</em>, and with Clarke, it was always worth it—always worth fighting for.</p><p>“You’re not to blame either,” she found herself saying, found herself believing. “I think I’ve said that before.”</p><p>“Lexa, if I had spoken up, if I hadn’t asked you to take him home, nothing would have happened.”</p><p>She smiled and shrugged, imitating Clarke, “I could have said something too.”</p><p>“I let him think he had a chance.”</p><p>“He told me himself he knew it was hopeless. Clarke. The only one to blame for Finn’s actions is <em>Finn</em>.”</p><p>“I hurt you,” Clarke whispered, tears in her eyes. “I messed up because I was so focused on me. I’m a terrible friend, let alone fake girlfriend.”</p><p>“Understandable. You’re the protagonist of your own story.” She bit her lip, taking a deep breath. “So that’s it, huh? The entire truth?” But rather than nod and continue on their way, Clarke shook her head, her eyes taking on a strange gleam.</p><p>“The only truth that matters, that makes sense, that makes me, well, <em>me</em>, is that I love you. I love you, Lexa. God, I love you.”  Lexa’s first thought was to kiss her, to shut her up, to cease the babbling, but they’d been through a great deal, and though the truth was out, though they’d sat down and talked, it would take more than a mere kiss to heal the wounds and rift between them. So instead, Lexa pulled Clarke into an embrace—an innocent embrace—unable to help her grin, unable to help taking a deep breath, inhaling the soft, sweet scent of Clarke’s shampoo.</p><p>“Falling in love with you was easy, hiding it from you was hard.” At her words, Clarke dug her face into her neck, and Lexa could feel the beginnings of a smile. “This can’t happen again, Clarke. We can’t stop talking, we just can’t.” There were three truths to Clarke Griffin, Lexa knew. (She’d been wrong about all three.) There were three undeniable, unavoidable, unbelievable truths, however, to the two of them.</p><p>“No, we can’t. But we’re smart. I don’t think we’d make the same mistake twice.” (One, Clarke loved her.)</p><p>“Haven’t you heard? Med schools just accept anyone these days.” (Two, she loved Clarke.)</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” She pulled away and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Clarke. I was watching you in a very creepy fashion, and noticed you dropped your book. Here you go.” Lexa snorted, accepting the invisible book Clarke offered her.</p><p>“Wow thanks, you creepy good Samaritan. I’m Lexa, by the way.”</p><p>“It’s lovely to meet you, Lexa. Want to get a coffee?”</p><p>“Yes. A coffee sounds good.”</p><p>(Three, this was inevitable.)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: I've never ever written smut, but if I ever did, it would've been in this chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Getting coffee with Clarke was…well, awkward.</p><p>Lexa was still strumming with the emotions from earlier, feelings buzzed and high from the elation of knowing how Clarke felt—knowing that everything stemmed not from a desire to hurt, but a desire to prevent it. She was excited for the future, thrilled for the first time in a while, but was still unsure and hesitant and worried when it came to Clarke. (It was natural, she told herself. It was expected. After everything, she shouldn’t be quick to jump to move on—these things took time, took healing, took the rebuilding of trust. Right?)</p><p>They sat across from each other, staring determinedly at anything <em>but</em>each other, Lexa’s finger nervously tapping away against the table, Clarke biting her lips so hard that Lexa was sure she’d draw blood. And as the minutes dragged on, it became even more awkward—painfully so.</p><p>“So. This is weird.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Lexa agreed, meeting Clarke’s eyes.</p><p>“Do you think it’s too late?” The question came hesitantly but harshly, like she knew she shouldn’t ask but had no other choice—was compelled by some force far beyond her control. And Lexa, Lexa who’d been having the same thoughts, swallowed hard and looked down.</p><p>“Too late for us?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Do you think we’re that screwed up?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Do you?” Lexa watched as Clarke drew a circle with the tip of her finger on her coffee cup, her entire attention seemingly on the action. But she could tell, tell by the way Clarke’s body leaned forward, by the way her chin was raised, by the way her eyes darted, that her focus was only on Lexa—waiting with bated breath to hear Lexa’s answer.</p><p>“I think Mrs. Griffin would say something about love here.” She wanted to say more, but Clarke met her eyes, a sad smile on her lips, and Lexa’s words died in her throat.</p><p>“But maybe love isn’t enough,” she said softly, shrugging. “Maybe it’s about knowing when to throw in the towel.” She swallowed hard, once again looking down at her cup, aimlessly dragging her fingers over it. “I can’t hurt you anymore, Lexa.” And that, that was the moment things became easy once more. Because the sight of Clarke, miserable and quiet, ready to give up before even trying if trying meant causing pain, made Lexa realize this was what got them in trouble in the first place—made her realize what to do.</p><p>“You’re an idiot.” Clarke looked up, something fiery appearing in her eyes. It wasn’t anger or frustration, but a sense of discontent—seemingly affronted that Lexa would be so rude.</p><p>“Seriously?”</p><p>“Well you are. Just half an hour ago we said we were too smart to make the same mistakes again. And here we are, doing it again.”</p><p>“We can’t even get through coffee together. You think we’re going to last as a couple?”</p><p>“Yes, I do.”</p><p>“Lexa—”</p><p>“No, listen to me. You’re playing devil’s advocate, and it’s pissing me off. We can do this. It’ll just take time.”</p><p>“Love conquers all, huh?” She was being sarcastic, more like her usual self, and Lexa grinned.</p><p>“Actually, yes. Mrs. Griffin said that love is like an infinite energy source, and we choose to put in the effort to direct that source towards a single person.” Clarke nodded, but didn’t speak, and after a short pause, Lexa plowed on. “And she’s right, I think. But also wrong.”</p><p>“Oh wow, she’d be so offended if she heard this.”</p><p>“You don’t get to choose who you fall for,” Lexa continued, smiling slightly at Clarke’s comment. “And I don’t think you have to put in effort to direct that infinite energy source towards that person. I think it’s a natural process, that’s just the way the energy flows.”</p><p>“So there’s no choice at all?”</p><p>“No, there is. You can choose to let it flow or…just walk away.” She cleared her throat, suddenly unable to meet Clarke’s eyes, feeling open and vulnerable. “I know it’s awkward now and it might be for a while, and we need to be friends again before we can be anything else, but I don’t want to walk away. I don’t.”</p><p>“I don’t want to walk away either,” Clarke said, forcing Lexa to look up, both of them suddenly grinning like fools. “So we take it slow.”</p><p>“Slow,” Lexa agreed.</p><p>(And if Octavia and Raven groaned when they told them, if their friends claimed that if they went any slower they’d be going backwards, they didn’t care. Because for the first time, it felt right.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>After a month of taking it slow, Lexa was going mad.</p><p>Slow meant rebuilding their friendship. It meant long conversations, filling each other in on every little thing they’d missed over the last several months. It meant Clarke coming with her to visit her mom, it meant Lexa began seeing Jasper and Monty and Clarke’s other friends again. It meant they knocked before they entered each other’s apartments, it meant they limited their physical contact, it meant that they were free to talk about any other romantic interests (and if there weren’t other romantic interests, if they were both sure of what they wanted, who they wanted, it was a tacit thing, a mutual understanding, and so they only spoke of each other).</p><p>(But their eyes strayed, lingered for longer than what would be considered strictly ‘friendly,’ and Lexa’s heart pounded, and the slightest of grazes against Clarke set her nerves on fire, sending wave after wave of signals to her brain, leaving her tingling and warm and <em>wanting</em>.)</p><p>(She was driven mad by the proximity, by the sudden inability to keep her desires under wraps. Because Clarke was no longer something untouchable and off limits—she was opportunity, she was the future, she was nothing but unbridled potential. There was something there, and as the weeks dragged on, as her wounds healed, as forgiveness sealed the last gaps in her heart, Lexa wanted to capitalize, wanted to go for that something.)</p><p>(But they were taking it slow, and so they waited.)   </p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>It was three months after being asked on a date that Lexa finally said yes.</p><p>They were preoccupied with classes and exams and due dates and hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in a days. So when Clarke came by, laden with her textbooks and computer, claiming she didn’t want to be alone while she studied, Lexa let her in without complaint, ordered Chinese, and they sat on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other, studying and chatting and eating. And when Clarke speared her peppered beef with a chopstick, when she grinned widely at Lexa, looking positively proud of herself, the word came out of her without any prompting.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Yes what?” Clarke asked, her eyes now on the television, her textbook going ignored. “You know, I think I’ve seen this episode before.”</p><p>“No, Clarke. Listen. <em>Yes</em>.” Clarke turned away from the television at Lexa’s tone, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.</p><p>“Yes what?” she asked again. Slowly, clearing her throat as she did so, Lexa set her container of food aside and sat up straight, refusing to break eye contact, no matter how nervous she was and how much she wanted to.</p><p>“Yes, to the date.” Clarke merely blinked in response, and for a second Lexa wondered if she made a terrible mistake, if she somehow misunderstood. “I mean. We don’t have to—”</p><p>“Oh my god, <em>finally</em>,” Clarke muttered, interrupting her, and the next thing Lexa knew, Clarke had thrown herself on top of her, hugging her so tightly that she could barely breathe. “I was starting to get worried, to be honest,” she admitted, her hot breath against Lexa’s ear, making her shiver, embarrassingly enough. “I was going crazy. Why did we think waiting so long was a good idea?”</p><p>“You know,” Lexa began, tangling her fingers with Clarke’s, smiling slightly, “I don’t even remember anymore.” Clarke opened her mouth, looking like she wanted to argue, but after a moment, she just let out a laugh, shook her head, and settled back on the couch, resuming eating and watching television—still determinedly ignoring her textbook.</p><p>They didn’t let go of each other’s hands.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>They had their first date not a week later.</p><p>Lexa fumbled slightly with the flowers and box of chocolates in her hands as she knocked on the door, wondering if she was being too cliché and silly, wondering if she should at least go toss the chocolates. But then the door opened, revealing a frazzled Clarke, and all of Lexa’s thoughts dissipated, and she could do nothing but smile.</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>“You’re early,” Clarke accused, but she was grinning widely as well, stepping back and letting Lexa in. “About two hours early.”</p><p>“I was excited.”</p><p>“I’m not ready.” Lexa looked Clarke up and down, at her worn jeans, paint covered t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, and she shrugged.</p><p>“I think you look great.”</p><p>“I was painting.”</p><p>“I can tell. You still have some here.” She gestured towards Clarke’s neck, and Clarke grabbed a rag, rubbing furiously, only managing to irritate her skin. After a moment, Lexa took pity on her and wordlessly asked for the rag, and Clarke groaned as she handed it over.</p><p>“Are you nervous?” she asked as Lexa gently began wiping the paint off Clarke’s neck. “Because I’m nervous. I paint when I’m nervous.”</p><p>“I know. And yeah, I’m nervous.”</p><p>“Even if the date goes terribly, we’ll always be friends. Best friends.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“The fake date wasn’t bad. I ruined it. But before that, it was good, right?”</p><p>“I liked it when you called me attractive. And when you kissed me,” Lexa chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear. She dropped the rag, but her hand didn’t move away from Clarke’s neck, her fingertips itching to close the last few centimeters of distance, itching to feel Clarke’s skin against her own. “I made reservations for dinner,” she continued.</p><p>“Did you?” Clarke stepped forward, her hands gripping the front of Lexa’s jacket, almost like she was off balance and needed something to steady her.</p><p>“Yeah.” She was sure Clarke could hear the sound of her heart beating, but she didn’t wonder if that was normal. Instead, Lexa was totally fixated on the softness of Clarke’s skin beneath her fingertips, the way her breath hitched as Lexa let her fingers trail over Clarke’s neck, down to her collarbone, then back up to her cheeks. “It’s not a very good restaurant,” she whispered, and Clarke nodded shakily, tugging on Lexa’s jacket, slowly pulling it off of her.</p><p>“Waste, really,” Clarke muttered. “We could always do something else.” She let Lexa’s jacket drop to the floor, then pulled slightly on her shirt, pressing them flush together.</p><p>“Are you drunk or sad?”</p><p>“No. Are you?”</p><p>“No. Do you want this?”</p><p>“Yes, <em>yes</em>. Do you?”</p><p>“God, yes.”</p><p>(They never made it to their reservation.)</p><p>(They didn’t care.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>They sat together on Bellamy’s couch, hands tangled.</p><p>“I don’t trust it,” he announced, looking at the two of them critically. His eyes darted between them, narrowing and widening, looking unconvinced. “How long?”</p><p>“Two months?” Clarke said, looking at Lexa for clarification.</p><p>“I knew it!” Raven hissed, jumping up. “I fucking <em>knew</em>it. Lexa’s been way too happy, I knew she was getting laid.”</p><p>“Well, I’m not allowed to have an opinion,” Octavia said, handing over the beers. “But if I were, I’d say it’s about time. God, it was torture watching you two torture yourselves. How could you wait <em>three</em>months?”</p><p>“We wanted to do it right,” Clarke said, raising her eyebrows, daring anyone to argue. When no one did, she let out a self-satisfied huff.  </p><p>“Well, for whatever it’s worth, I’m glad,” Bellamy announced, getting to his feet and holding up his beer, his eyes on Lexa. “I know we’ve been shitty friends to you, and I know you’re tired of the apologizing and gifts—”</p><p>“Bellamy the fucking suck up,” Raven interrupted, rolling her eyes. “You and Lexa always got along better than the rest of us. She even told you about moving out <em>beforehand.</em>”</p><p>“Maybe because she knew she could trust me?” Bellamy countered, and Raven’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t reply. “Anyway. The point is, I’m glad you two worked things out, but more importantly, I’m glad you two are happy. You are happy, right?” </p><p>“That would be awkward, if they weren’t,” Octavia muttered, making Lexa laugh and Clarke glare at her.</p><p>“We are,” Lexa said, and Bellamy grinned.</p><p>“Right. So this is getting sappy,” he said, clearing his throat roughly. “I need to be drunker for this.” He left the room, heading towards his kitchen, and Octavia leaned forward.</p><p>“He’s so thrilled, he can’t even hide it,” she mock whispered. “My big brother is a big, lame softie.”</p><p>“Better than you, Octavia,” Raven said, rolling her eyes again. “You’re not even allowed to have an opinion.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“It seems like a colossally bad idea,” Lexa muttered, approaching Clarke and hugging her from behind, resting her chin on Clarke’s shoulder. “It’s like they want Christmas screwed up this year.” Clarke turned around, not moving away from Lexa’s embrace, leaning back against the counter, facing Lexa with raised eyebrows.</p><p>“Why would inviting you screw up Christmas?”</p><p>“Do you remember last year?”</p><p>“Last year was my fault. Besides. It’s common knowledge that my family loves you more than me. It’ll be great.”</p><p>“Did you tell them we’re dating?”</p><p>“I did. My mom said she’ll believe it when she sees it, and my grandmother claimed she was glad that I finally learned to respect the candy, which apparently, should mean something to you.” Lexa laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Clarke’s lips before pulling away to help with fixing dinner. They both still had their own apartments, but they never spent a night apart, and Lexa found herself at Clarke’s place more often than not (even going as far as to call it ‘their home,’ a comment that had Clarke grinning madly for hours).</p><p>“We could always spend Christmas alone.”</p><p>“And face the Griffin ire the rest of our lives?” Clarke asked, feigning affront. “We spent Thanksgiving with your family.”</p><p>“Yeah, but my family consists of two normal people. Yours is a mess of insanity.” Clarke narrowed her eyes.</p><p>“You say that, but I know you’re mush, and I know you’re thrilled to see my grandmother again. You’ve missed her.”</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin is the only sane one, true.”</p><p>“Lexa.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“It’s only three days.”</p><p>“I never said no. I merely questioned your family’s decision to invite me this year after the fiasco last year.”</p><p>“So it’s a yes?”</p><p>“If you want.”</p><p>“Lexa.” With a sigh—mostly an act on her part, for Clarke was right about one thing, she <em>did</em>desperately want to see Mrs. Griffin again—Lexa rolled her eyes and faced Clarke completely.</p><p>“Yes, Clarke,” she said, “it’s a yes.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“You’d think they’d have learned their lesson last year,” Lexa muttered, looking out the car window as Clarke drove up to the house, still large, still impressive, still imposing. “I still can’t believe I was invited.”</p><p>“You weren’t just invited. This entire gathering rests purely on your shoulders. The foundation upon which the Griffin family stands.”</p><p>“Oh ha. Done having your fun?”</p><p>“Not even a little.” She parked the car, shut it off, then sat back in her seat, facing Lexa with a smile. “Excited?”</p><p>“I’m going to learn how to bake a pie. Either pumpkin or apple.”</p><p>“Now I’m not excited.”</p><p>“I’m a great baker.”</p><p>“No, Lexa, you’re really not.” Before Lexa could protest, however, Clarke leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, placating her. “It’s three days with my family. And all the wine you could want. What could go wrong?”</p><p>“You just jinxed it. Everything’s going to go wrong. Mrs. Griffin is going to <em>hate</em>me now that we’re actually dating.” But Clarke didn’t seem to share Lexa’s worries. She just laughed and got out of the car, grabbing their bags and heading inside where chaos awaited them.</p><p>And Lexa, Lexa felt her heart flutter with excitement.</p><p>She walked into the Griffin home and was immediately assaulted with a tight hug, a child’s face buried in her stomach.</p><p>“You’re here!” came a muffled voice, and Lexa awkwardly patted the top of Peter’s head, unsure what else to do.</p><p>“I was forced,” she said, grinning when Peter pulled away to look at her carefully. “Apparently, you and Ellie need to be a taught a lesson in Monopoly.” His eyes narrowed, but before he could argue, he was literally shoved aside by his sister, and Lexa found herself in a second hug in the span of five seconds. “I feel popular today.”</p><p>“Popularity’s never been your issue, has it?” Clarke muttered, standing to the side, totally ignored by both her cousins.</p><p>“I’m so glad you came, Lexa. Aunt Hannah claimed you wouldn’t, so I told my mom I wouldn’t stay,” Ellie said, grinning wide, making Lexa wonder when and where she’d made such an impact on the girl, enough for her to stand up to her mother. “You’re the only reason staying with family was any fun.” Lexa’s eyes narrowed, realizing Ellie’s sudden affection was less about her and more about the drama she caused.</p><p>“Hate to break it to you, but we’re all sorted out. No shouting matches for you.”</p><p>“It was the cliff analogy, right?” Ellie asked, pulling away. “You pushed her?”</p><p>“Cliff analogy?” Clarke asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Lexa just shook her head.</p><p>“Will the Maddies be attacking me too? Or can I go see Mrs. Griffin?”</p><p>“She’s in her bedroom,” Peter supplied helpfully, while Ellie just snickered away, caught up in explaining the cliff analogy to Clarke—Clarke, whose eyes were quickly narrowing, a frown appearing on her face, clearly offended.</p><p>“What if there were jagged rocks at the bottom?” she asked her cousin as Lexa inched away, heading up the stairs. “Seems like a serious safety hazard.” Lexa didn’t hear Ellie’s response, too focused on knocking on Carol’s door.</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin?” she called, stepping in hesitantly, preparing herself for the collage and overabundance of photos she’d seen last time. Except, she needn’t have prepared at all; Carol’s bedroom—thought still homely, flowers in a vase, warm, nice—was mostly bare except for a small picture frame in front of the mirror, a photo of the entire Griffin family in the corner, the rest of the frame taken up by a large picture of James Griffin.</p><p>“Lexa Woods,” Carol said, grinning widely and getting up from where she sat at her desk, giving Lexa a tight hug, the first hug of the day that she didn’t immediately stiffen at, the first hug she welcomed. She seemed healthier than from what Lexa remembered—the frail woman who had lost everything was gone, replaced by someone far closer to the Carol of when James was alive (though somehow, Lexa knew that <em>that</em>Carol was forever lost). “I almost didn’t think you’d come.”</p><p>“Because of all the trouble I caused last time?”</p><p>“No, because there’s a bet between John and Hannah that you two are still putting up an act.” Lexa laughed and Carol pulled away, patting her fondly on the cheek. “I think I’m going to win a lot of money.”</p><p>“Bet on us, did you?”</p><p>“Always,” she said simply, as if no other possibility could ever exist for her. She smiled, and Lexa waited, waited to be asked a million questions, waited to be asked to recount everything that happened—from the moment she and Clarke left last year up to this moment. But instead, Carol continued to smile.</p><p>“Don’t you want to know all the details?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Really? You?” Carol raised her eyebrows at Lexa’s disbelieving tone, but she just shook her head. “You don’t want to know <em>anything</em>at all?”</p><p>“Are you two happy?”</p><p>“Well, it would be really awkward if we weren’t.” When she just continued to wait, Lexa sighed, nodding and staring up at the ceiling to avoid Carol’s eyes, still uncomfortable with sharing her feelings. “Yeah. We are.”</p><p>“Then that’s all I need to know. Clarke respects the candy, no cliffs were necessary, and your backbone seems pretty sturdy. All in all, I’d say I know more than enough.”</p><p>“It almost didn’t work out,” Lexa muttered, meeting Carol’s eyes, trying to goad her into asking questions. But Carol continued to smile, humming slightly.</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Oh yeah. Took months. Lots of work on both our parts.”</p><p>“That’s nice, hon.”</p><p>“You honestly don’t want to know <em>anything</em>? You?” At that, Carol laughed, a deep, loud sound, echoing in the room.</p><p>“My work is done, Lexa,” she said, patting her shoulder. “I wanted to help, not meddle in your relationship.”</p><p>“So if we start fighting again, you’ll be around?”</p><p>“Always.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“They pulled the wool over our eyes once before,” John shouted, shaking his head dramatically, “I won’t fall for it again! The relationship will never last!”</p><p>“Turn off the TV, John,” Kate said patiently, smiling at her husband, and all Lexa could do was stare, flabbergasted that anyone could deal with him all day every day. “Clarke and Lexa are here.”</p><p>“Are they really?” He turned off the television with gusto, getting up from the couch with a grin. He immediately hugged his niece, causing Clarke to groan, but when he reached out for Lexa, she shook her head. “Reached your hug quota, did you?”</p><p>“Three’s the limit, sorry.”</p><p>“Harsh words from a harsh girl. And I <em>still</em>like you better than the other guy.” His grin slipped off his face as he watched Clarke wrap an arm around Lexa waist, as they stood there as if they couldn’t bear to be apart for even a second. “<em>Dammit</em>,” he said, shaking his head.</p><p>“Is something wrong, Uncle John?” Clarke asked innocently.</p><p>“Who told you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “Who spilled the beans?”</p><p>“Other than Lexa?” Abby called from the kitchen. Clarke laughed, but Lexa let out a sigh, knowing she should’ve expected such treatment. The Griffins hadn’t been shy about including her in their jokes <em>before</em>she and Clarke started dating; it was only bound to get worse.</p><p>“No, seriously. Who told you about the bet?”</p><p>“Whatever do you mean, Uncle John?”</p><p>“Look,” he said, his eyes narrowing at Clarke, “you made you point. Now act normal so I can at least fool a hundred bucks out of Hannah.”</p><p>“Only if you split it with us,” Lexa muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. John let out a long-suffering sigh, but he nodded seriously.</p><p>“Fine, fine. Fifty-fifty?”</p><p>“Are you kidding? With all the work we have to put in to fool her? Seventy-thirty.” John’s eyes narrowed further, but before he could speak, Clarke cut in.</p><p>“As fun as it is to watch you shakedown my uncle, I’m going to go find Aunt Hannah and Aunt Lizzie,” she said, pressing a light kiss to Lexa’s cheek before heading towards the kitchen, deep in conversation with Kate, both of them laughing. Lexa and John watched them go for a moment, then he turned to her, his mock seriousness gone, replaced by total sincerity.</p><p>“You guys worked things out,” he observed unnecessarily. “That’s good.”</p><p>“I tried the sarcastic route, but turned out all I needed to do was talk to her.” He laughed, shaking his head before running his fingers through his hair.</p><p>“If Jake were here, he’d probably give you the speech,” he said, and Lexa knew the words were coming out with some difficulty because he no longer looked her in the eye. “But I’d like to state for the record that I was right about you.”</p><p>“About what?” John looked up then, and he smiled his small, sincere smile, the rare one, the one that was different from all the rest.</p><p>“You never needed it.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>It was like they’d never left.</p><p>The book she’d forgotten to pack in her haste to leave still sat on the desk, one of Clarke’s shirts still was folded in the dresser. Lexa stood in the doorway of the bedroom, taking a deep breath, noticing only then that the boxes that had been tucked away into the closet were gone.</p><p>“My mom took some stuff, my grandma put the other stuff up. She said she didn’t want to hide him away anymore—not my dad and definitely not my granddad,” Clarke explained, noticing where Lexa’s eyes were. She dropped their bags and laid back on the bed, letting out a loud groan. “Can you believe the last time we were here, we weren’t getting along?”</p><p>“We still don’t get along,” Lexa muttered, dropping down next to her, grinning slightly when Clarke just huffed. “Thanks.” Clarke turned to her, frowning, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“For asking me here. For being you. Just…everything.” She threaded her fingers through Clarke’s, her heart humming in contentment, her very arteries and veins and nerves thrumming with a sense of belonging. There was a key in her suitcase, wrapped up in a small box and ready to be given to Clarke at any moment, there was a sense of urgency to get back downstairs and help the other Griffins with dinner and fooling Hannah, there was a debt of Monopoly to be paid to the kids, and Lexa knew things would only become more chaotic the following day, when her mother and sister arrived, for the first time bringing both their families together.</p><p>But for now, for now she was home.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: this chapter and the next were not part of the original fic, but were extras I wrote later based on prompts. we're gonna consider them epilogues now</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was pretty sure she was hallucinating.</p><p>The kitchen was a disaster zone. Ellie and Peter were covered head to toe with cake batter, an exasperated Elizabeth standing next to them, an empty bowl (looking suspiciously like it had been full of cake batter just moments before) in her hands. John was leaning over the sink, one hand waving in the air, the other deep in the drain. Hannah was holding back the twins, who'd somehow found a carton of eggs and were using a slingshot to fire the makeshift ammo at everyone in sight. Raven, Octavia, and Bellamy stood to the side, identical expressions of faux innocence on their faces, flour plastered in their hair, using their bodies to unsuccessfully hide the ruined cake behind them. Anya stood next to Clarke, forcibly holding her back, and Clarke—her fiancée, the love of her life, her future wife—had clumps of icing and cake in her hands, cheeks streaked with tears, fiery gaze on the caterer. Lexa blinked, once, twice, three times. But the image didn't disappear.</p><p>She wasn't dreaming. Or hallucinating.</p><p>Before she could speak, the door swung open and Mrs. Griffin burst into the kitchen, eyes over her shoulder (as if something was chasing her).</p><p>“Abby and Lexa are here, we—” She turned and immediately cut herself off, momentarily looking sheepish before she grinned widely at Lexa. “Never mind then.”</p><p>(Lexa blinked once, twice, three times, but John's hand remained stuck in the sink, Raven remained in front of their ruined wedding cake, Clarke remained glaring at the caterer. She wasn't hallucinating. Or dreaming.)</p><p>“Should we ask?” Abby muttered, turning to Lexa with an incredulous expression, jaw still slightly ajar.</p><p>“Nope,” Lexa said, shaking her head for effect. “Nope, I don't want to know.”</p><p>“Logical as always, Lexa,” Mrs. Griffin offered, and it was only then that Clarke turned away from the caterer, her fiery gaze now focused on Lexa.</p><p>“You promised me,” she said harshly, and without bothering to explain, she let the cake clumps in her hands fall to the ground with a disturbingly satisfying splat, before she walked out the door (taking great care to ram her shoulder hard into Lexa's).</p><p>Lexa blinked once, twice, three times, and she went after the love of her life, her fiancée, her future wife, without a second thought.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“I just don't understand why we bother arguing over this every time. We both know you'll eventually agree with me.” Lexa rolled her eyes, not looking away from the newscaster or shifting from her seat on the couch.</p><p>“I'm making a point,” she said, refraining from turning around when she felt Clarke’s stomach press against the back of her head.</p><p>“Oh yeah?” She punctuated her words with a gentle graze of her hands against Lexa's neck, and it was truly a low blow. Lexa suppressed her shiver and tried to focus.</p><p>“You can't always get your way, Clarke.”</p><p>“But you're arguing for something you don't even want.” This time, her lips brushed against Lexa's neck, and despite all her focus on the newscaster, she couldn't help the sigh that escaped her, couldn't help but lean her head to the side, giving Clarke more room. (Couldn't help smiling a little when Clarke let out a victorious laugh.)</p><p>“It's the principle of the thing,” Lexa continued, wishing Clarke wasn't standing behind the couch, wishing that turning around and pulling Clarke into a proper kiss wouldn't be considered tacit surrender. “I argue to assert that my opinions should be factored in as well.”</p><p>“Lexa. We're not talking about furniture or wedding venues. It's just takeout.” Lexa's heart skipped a beat at the blasé way Clarke mentioned wedding venues—as if it wasn’t even in question that it’d happen eventually, as if she was sure of the arguments they’d have, its inevitability. (And that mere thought sent her heart racing.)</p><p>“Chinese versus pizza is a very big deal.”</p><p>“You say that, but you don't even actually want pizza. You think I don't know you?” She kissed up Lexa's neck, pausing at her pulse point, before moving up her jaw and reaching her ear.</p><p>“This is cheating.” It was a weak protest.</p><p>“We can have whatever you want,” Clarke said, breath against Lexa's ear, and enough was enough. Without really thinking about it, Lexa turned, kneeling on the couch, and pulled Clarke flush against her chest, nearly sighing in relief when their lips met.</p><p>“Okay,” she found herself murmuring. “I just chose.” And she kissed Clarke again.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>She watched with interest as Clarke raced around the apartment, grabbing clothes and books and stray pieces of paper as she went, barely sparing Lexa a glance as she walked through the door and deposited her keys and bag on the table.</p><p>“Is everything okay?” she asked, trying to hide the slight pang she felt when Clarke continued to ignore her, fluttering about and mumbling beneath her breath. It wasn’t like she expected anything from Clarke or anything, but she’d gotten rather used to being met with a kiss when she got home.</p><p>“My mom is coming,” Clarke huffed, swallowing hard as she paused for a full second to meet Lexa’s gaze, fear evident in her eyes. “She’s coming here.”</p><p>“When?”</p><p>“<em>Now</em>.” Lexa blinked, watched Clarke bumble about for a few more seconds before she took pity on her girlfriend and stepped forward, pulling her to a halt by wrapping her arms around her. Clarke collapsed against her, slouching so much that Lexa was able to rest her chin on her head, rubbing soothing circles into her back all the while.</p><p>“Your mom has come over before.”</p><p>“Yeah, but that was when we weren’t dating. Now she’ll be judgmental.”</p><p>“Dr. Griffin isn’t—”</p><p>“We’re<em>dating</em>, Lexa. She thinks it’s part of her job description to make sure things are going well.”</p><p>“You’d think the vetting process would be done by now,” Lexa joked, pressing a kiss to Clarke’s forehead. “It’s fine, Clarke,” she insisted when Clarke didn’t look cheered. “I think you’re forgetting how much your family loves me.” At that, Clarke pulled away, raising her eyebrows in shock.</p><p>“You think <em>you’re</em>the issue? Oh Lexa,” she shook her head and rolled her eyes for good measure, “my mom is coming over because of <em>me</em>.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I may have mentioned that we haven’t spent much time together lately.”</p><p>“You had work!”</p><p>“I know! I told her that, but she thinks we’re not communicating again or something.”</p><p>“It’ll be fine, Clarke,” she said, reaching for her again, pulling her forward by her belt loops and taking a moment to kiss her. “Hi,” she murmured as she pulled back to meet Clarke’s eyes, which had closed and were just now fluttering open.</p><p>“Hi,” she breathed out, one side of her mouth tilting up, as if she was actively trying to quell her smile but was failing miserably. The very thought made Lexa’s heart pound. “You don’t seem worried about my mom at all.”</p><p>“Of course not. We’re fine, she’ll see that.” Lexa pressed her forehead to Clarke’s, pulling her even closer (still wanting to eliminate the distance between them, always eliminate, eliminate, <em>eliminate</em>). “Dinner?”</p><p>“She wants to go out when she gets here. Her treat.” Lexa laughed, kissing Clarke again, tucking blonde hair back and resting her hand on Clarke’s neck.</p><p>“See? And we’re getting a free meal out of this. It’s all good.”</p><p>“It’s like you don’t even know my mom.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“She thinks you’re here because of her,” Lexa said, handing Abby a cup of coffee, eyes on the door to their bedroom, where Clarke was already fast asleep.</p><p>“My daughter is just a little paranoid, I think.”</p><p>“A little?”</p><p>“The two of you are fine, though, right? Other than this secret, which is secret for good reason, nothing else you’re not communicating?” Lexa rolled her eyes, taking a seat across from Abby, wondering when the Griffins would finally decide that this particular joke had gone on for long enough. It’d been years and still whenever she spoke to John, the first thing he asked was about whether or not she and Clarke were still pretending to be dating.</p><p>“Did John put you up to this?”</p><p>“He did. But to be fair, he has to get his jokes in. He’s actually being helpful.”</p><p>“You’ll thank him for me, won’t you? I can’t talk to him without making Clarke suspicious.” Abby laughed and nodded, grabbing her purse and digging through it for a second before she pulled out a small box.</p><p>“He got it resized it for you.” She handed over the box, which Lexa took and gripped tightly, her heart hammering away, momentarily finding it difficult to breathe. “And Carol says she wants you to film it.”</p><p>“Yeah, of course. Whatever she wants.”</p><p>“Lexa?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Don’t be so anxious.”</p><p>“I’m not anxious.”</p><p>“You’re practically having a panic attack.”</p><p>“It’s just…sometimes it all feels pretty surreal, you know?” Abby nodded and reached out to pat Lexa’s hand, a sympathetic look on her face.</p><p>“When are you going to do it?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Soon. Anya is supposed to help me.”</p><p>“Are you worried?”</p><p>“About what she’ll say? Well, of course.”</p><p>“You and I both know that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about. I’m asking if you’re worried about telling the rest of the family.”</p><p>“Oh god, you’re right. Mrs. Griffin is one thing. But Hannah and Elizabeth and John all together?”</p><p>“John’s so thrilled that he’s been included he won’t make much of a fuss. The others aren’t as bad.” Lexa nodded and pocketed the box, taking a deep breath before she drained the rest of her now cold coffee, eyes averted from Abby’s worried gaze. “We’re all very excited for you two. I hope you know that.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Lexa said, looking up and finding the words spilling out easily, despite how difficult she’d thought it’d be. “For everything. For helping me. For what Mrs. Griffin gave up and—”</p><p>“You’re family, sweetheart,” Abby said, waving off Lexa’s words easily. “I don’t know whether or not that’s a good thing, but you’re stuck with the Griffins.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>It weighed down her pocket.</p><p>It was an anchor, an impossible weight that made each step difficult, that strained her breathing, that made her wonder if her heart was beating on its own or if it was purely by the compression of the small box against her chest.</p><p>(She’d been honest when she said she didn’t know when she’d do it, but as time raced on, she rather wished she’d planned just a little bit more.)</p><p>(More than anything, she hated Anya’s knowing looks, her not-so-subtle remarks in front of Clarke that made Lexa blush furiously and Clarke look at them in confusion.)</p><p>(She also didn’t appreciate Mrs. Griffin’s calls, ostensibly for advice, or John’s inquires as to ‘have you done it yet?’ which just stressed her out.)</p><p>“Lexa? Are you okay?” She looked up suddenly, turning her gaze away from the ground and meeting Clarke’s eyes. They were strolling around the park, arms linked, fall bringing with it a chilling bite to the air, making Lexa grateful for the tea they’d brought from home and the gentle brush of their shoulders and sharing of body heat.</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“You just seem…quiet.” She stopped, pulling Lexa to a bench, setting her down and standing above her, hands on her hips. “Quiet never means anything good.”</p><p>“I’m always quiet.”</p><p>“You’re a pensive quiet right now. It’s different from your normal quiet.”</p><p>“And what’s my normal quiet like?”</p><p>“It’s a happy quiet. Like you’re content with silence.” Clarke leaned forward, resting her hands on the top of Lexa’s thighs, eyes never straying from her face. “What’re you thinking about?”</p><p>“How much I love you.” She didn’t even think to lie—the truth spilled from her lips effortlessly, a mere statement of fact that she had no reason to hide. Clarke blushed and moved to sit down next to her, their shoulders pressed together, arms once more linked.</p><p>“You seem worried though.”</p><p>“I’m not worried,” she said, smiling a little, bringing up Clarke’s hand and kissing her knuckles. “Just vaguely nervous.”</p><p>“About how much you love me?”</p><p>“It’s an exorbitant amount, Clarke. It’s honestly not all that normal.” Clarke rolled her eyes, leaning her head on Lexa’s shoulder and letting out a tiny sigh when Lexa brought her hand up once more to press another kiss to her knuckles.</p><p>“My mom wasn’t right, was she? We’re not back to not talking, are we?”</p><p>“No, it’s nothing like that.”</p><p>“But you still won’t tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”</p><p>“I promise you, it’s filled with nothing but thoughts of you.”</p><p>“You weren’t thinking much of me when you fell asleep on the couch last week.”</p><p>“It was one time, I was working, and I already apologized for that.”</p><p>“Lexa.”</p><p>“I’m not hiding anything.” (That was a lie.) “You honestly shouldn’t worry.” (That was true.)</p><p>(She wondered if the latter somehow outweighed the former.)</p><p>“Anya’s been acting weird too. And the other day, Raven called to ask me if I’d any thoughts on your inability to plan.” Lexa stifled a groan, making a mental note to never tell Raven anything ever again, before she turned her head and kissed Clarke’s temple, laughing when Clarke had to pull away to hide the smile that tugged on her lips.</p><p>“Clarke, do you trust me?”</p><p>“Of course,” she replied without hesitation, and Lexa didn’t think she was ever as much in love with Clarke than she was at that moment, struck by the intensity of Clarke’s gaze, the forcefulness of her tone, the way her jaw and shoulder set, as if she was daring for anyone to contradict her.</p><p>“It’s nothing bad and nothing to worry about. I promise.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, okay.” She got to her feet, grabbed Lexa’s hands, and dragged her out of the park and in the direction of their apartment.</p><p>(She didn’t bring up Lexa’s quietness again, and Lexa thought her heart would surely burst from the pressure of the things she so desperately wanted to tell Clarke but didn’t know how.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>In the end, after days and weeks of waiting for the perfect moment—after weeks and days of planning and preparing—she eschewed the pomp and circumstance and did what she wanted to do from the beginning: casually ask when Clarke wasn’t paying any attention.</p><p>In all honesty, it’d been on the tip of her tongue since their walk through the park, and each day she found it harder and harder to remain silent. She’d see Clarke at the couch, pen between her teeth, diligently looking over her notes, cup of tea totally forgotten next to her, and Lexa would feel warmth in her belly and a rush in her head and her mouth was forming the words before her brain managed to catch up and shut things down right then. Or, she’d wake up long before Clarke, and the sight of her laying in bed, mouth slightly ajar, hair splayed everywhere, tugged at her heart and made her fingers tremble with want and desire and <em>need</em>and it took every ounce of self control to not shake Clarke awake and ask her right then. Or, and this was the worst of them all, Clarke would look at her and smile, would kiss her good morning or good night, would brush their hands together as if she couldn’t bear the thought of them not touching in some way at all times, and Lexa’s pulse raced, her mouth went dry, the question caught somewhere deep in her throat, where she’d shoved it down mercilessly. Days and weeks had passed, and she’d done everything in her power to remain silent, to stick with the plan, to follow Anya and Raven’s and Mrs. Griffin’s instructions to the letter, sure that they were right and Clarke would want something grand and exciting—a story to tell.</p><p>But then she saw Clarke sitting at the other end of the couch, using her chopsticks to spear pieces of peppered beef, eyes on the television, feet tangled with her own, and it occurred to her that she was the one who knew Clarke best. She was the one who’d held Clarke as she stressed over her studies, who could tell between her various types of laughs, who merely needed a second to know exactly what she was feeling. And it occurred to her, as she was caught up in the moment, thinking back to college, she was tired of waiting, tired of the preparation and planning.</p><p>And the words slipped out.</p><p>“Will you marry me?” Clarke, who was in the middle of chewing one of her speared pieces of meat, froze, eyes drifting away from the television to meet Lexa’s very serious gaze. She swallowed, put her container aside, and sat up straight. “Will you marry me, Clarke?” she asked again, placing her own food aside and pulling the ring out of her pocket—where it’d been sitting for days and weeks, burning a hole right through her clothes and into her skin. Clarke continued to stare at her, wide eyes and gaping mouth, and Lexa shrugged awkwardly, feeling her cheeks heat up. “I had a plan, you know? It was cheesy and romantic and involved candles and champagne and really good food, but the reservation is in a few weeks and I’m tired of waiting, and I know I’m supposed to be on one knee and everything and this is sort of lame and pathetic—”</p><p>“It’s perfect,” Clarke interrupted, shifting closer, her hands reaching out to pull Lexa in for a kiss.</p><p>“Yeah?” Lexa muttered, eyes closed, feeling Clarke’s hot breath against her face.</p><p>“You’re perfect.” She kissed Lexa again, this time pressing closer, moving until Lexa was laying back and Clarke was hovering above her.</p><p>(It wasn’t until the next morning that Lexa thought to ask if all that had meant yes.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>She knew it was a bad idea the second they stepped into the shop.</p><p>Wedding planning, she quickly learned, was a horrifying experience she wouldn’t wish on anyone. Between the venue and the flowers and the music and the invitations (in the midst of all the advice pouring in from her own mother as well as Mrs. Griffin and Octavia and Elizabeth), she felt her brain was going to explode. More than once, she half jokingly suggested eloping and doing away with everything else, and more than once, Clarke looked ready to agree.</p><p>And yet, despite all her stubbornness and the sometimes literal dragging of her feet, despite hating the hour long conversations about table settings, they were only a few months away from what Mrs. Griffin affectionately called the ‘Inevitable Day,’ and she felt a bit of the excitement everyone else seemed to be feeling. (How could she not, when Clarke was standing next to her, sweater wrapped tightly around her, her blue eyes flickering over the pamphlet in her hand, the other one clasped tightly around Lexa’s? How could she not, when they went home together, and every time they kissed or laughed or just merely sat, enjoying each other’s presence, her thoughts were full of how Clarke would soon be her wife?)</p><p>But the shop, the shop was definitely a bad idea.</p><p>“We can go to literally any other caterer,” Lexa mumbled as the bell above the door tinkled, announcing their entrance. The place was fairly empty, only on other couple standing in the far corner, heads together, whispering excitedly. “Why this one?”</p><p>“She had the best reviews,” Clarke said, turning to Lexa with an amused expression. “Why so against this place?”</p><p>“I just…I know the owner, she went to high school with me, that’s all.”</p><p>“Oh, are you telling me you have deep, dark high school secrets you haven’t told me?”</p><p>“Of course not. Besides, you don’t talk about your adventures in high school either.”</p><p>“Yeah, because nothing exciting happened to me in high school.” She narrowed her eyes when Lexa continued to fidget, turning so that she was facing Lexa completely. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”</p><p>“She was my girlfriend. Our break-up wasn’t pretty.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“She might hate me. Just a little bit.”</p><p>“What did you do?” Clarke asked, one side of her mouth pulling up with the beginnings of a smile. Lexa sighed, grabbing Clarke’s other hand and pulling her closer, foreheads pressed together.</p><p>“I was quiet. She never really liked that.” Clarke laughed, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before pulling away, though she still kept a firm grasp on Lexa’s hands, and she rolled her eyes.</p><p>“I feel like there’s more to that story.”</p><p>“Just a little, totally not worth telling though.” Clarke laughed again, and excitement flooded through Lexa’s veins once more, pounded through her with each beat of her heart, her lungs filling impossibly with air.</p><p>“Should I be worried?” she asked, still smiling, still joking, though Lexa could tell there was a hint of actual apprehension in her tone.</p><p>“You don’t trust me?”</p><p>“Of course I do, that’s not what I meant,” she said quickly, eyes wide. “We’ve just…we’ve had a lot of drama, right?” Lexa nodded, thinking of the fiasco that was college, thinking of Finn and the Greenes. “I just don’t want this to have drama. Does that make sense?”</p><p>“Yes. And you’ve got no reason to worry. There’s no drama here.”</p><p>“You promise?”</p><p>“Of course, I’m drama free.” Clarke rolled her eyes, but before she could reply the caterer stepped out from the back, approaching them with a blank expression, and Lexa’s fidgeting returned in full force.</p><p>“Hi,” she said, eyes solely on Clarke, pretending as if Lexa wasn’t even there. “I’m Sarah. You must be Clarke?” </p><p>“Yes, and this is my fiancée, Lexa—”</p><p>“—Woods, yes, we’ve met,” Sarah interrupted, barely sparing Lexa a glance. “So, did you want to sample the food or the cake first?”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“She was <em>rude</em>,” Clarke muttered, pulling on her pajamas and sliding into bed. Lexa sighed, took off her glasses and put her book aside, turning to Clarke with a small smile.</p><p>“It’s fine.”</p><p>“No, it’s not. She barely acknowledged you. It was highly unprofessional. High school was ages ago! Shouldn’t she have gotten over whatever happened by now?”</p><p>“Clarke, you said it yourself, the food and cake was the best there. I can deal with a little bit of rudeness if it means a better caterer for our wedding.”</p><p>“Everyone will be too drunk to care about the taste of the food, anyway,” Clarke said angrily, shifting over on her side, studying Lexa’s face. “I don’t like that she was acting that way. I don’t understand why you’re just letting it go.”</p><p>“Because I love you,” Lexa said, turning as well, wrapping and arm around Clarke’s waist and pulling her closer. “And you liked the food. Don’t try and deny it.”</p><p>“She was still rude.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“Be honest, Lexa. What did you do?” Lexa ran her fingers up and down Clarke’s arm, shrugging a little.</p><p>“We were supposed to go to the same college. The whole high school sweethearts thing, you know? But Anya took me to Emerson Library, and I don’t know, it seemed special. After seeing that place, I couldn’t imagine going to any other school. Sarah took my change of heart pretty hard, especially since I gave her the news just a week before graduation.”</p><p>“Do you regret it?” Lexa tangled their fingers together, pressing forward to kiss her fiancée (and even now, the simple act made her heart flutter and her head spin).</p><p>“Not once. I was right about Emerson Library. It was where I met you.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“Do you really need a caterer at all?” Mrs. Griffin asked, handing a bowl to Lexa with a smile. “I could do all the cooking for you. It’s just close friends and family.”</p><p>“Clarke and I agreed, this isn’t a big deal. We can deal with it.”</p><p>“Clarke doesn’t seem to be on the same page. She told me that she hated the idea of anyone disrespecting the candy.”</p><p>“She didn’t say that,” Lexa immediately protested, though she couldn’t help the pinprick of doubt in the back of her mind. “Besides, it’s less disrespect and more of a silent treatment. It’s okay.”</p><p>“All I’m saying, hon,” Mrs. Griffin said bracingly, rolling her eyes when Lexa got too much cinnamon in the mix, “is that you’re setting yourself up for an eventual blow up. Just go talk to the caterer, sort things out with her.”</p><p>“Is Clarke actually that upset?”</p><p>“Like I said, she hates the idea of anyone disrespecting the candy. And I have to say, I agree with her.”</p><p>“Mrs. Griffin—”</p><p>“That’s all I have to say on the subject. Now, tell me, when are you ever going to bother to learn how to bake?”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>Without Clarke, the place was dark and frightening, and not for the first time, she wondered if she was making a mistake.</p><p>“Sorry, we’re clos—oh. It’s you.” Lexa kept her expression neutral, stepping further into the room, letting the door close behind her, the bell’s tinkling sounding unnaturally happy. “What do you want?”</p><p>“Just to talk.”</p><p>“We’ve got nothing to talk about,” Sarah huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She was sitting at a table in the back, paperwork laid out in front of her, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. With a pang, Lexa thought about Clarke, sitting at home alone, and she took in a deep breath and braved on.</p><p>“Honestly, I think I deserve the anger,” she said, shoving her hands into her pockets, rocking back on her heels. “I was cruel, even for a high schooler, and I get why you hate me. But you’re hurting Clarke, and I can’t have that.”</p><p>“I don’t hate you,” Sarah said, sighing and motioning for Lexa to sit down across from her. They sat in silence for several moments, not looking at each other, before Lexa spoke up once more.</p><p>“We don’t have to be friends. I’m just asking that, around Clarke, you pretend.”</p><p>“You know, I’ve been doing this for a while. I worked with my dad at first, took over when he passed away.” She waved off Lexa’s condolences, shrugging and leaning forward on the table. “I can always tell if a couple will last. Always. I’ve seen so many walk through that door, it’s easy.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And I think you’re lucky. Because what you and Clarke have, it’s not all that common.”</p><p>“Considering what we went through to get here, it’s not all that surprising.” Sarah cocked her head to the side, clearly curious, and Lexa found herself smiling as she thought of Clarke. “It’s a long story.”</p><p>“I don’t want to pretend to be your friend, Lexa,” Sarah said softly, her eyes sad. “So tell me, I’ve got time.” And Lexa, though she still wondered if she was making a mistake, told Sarah all about Clarke.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“Ellie, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, you can’t throw your brother into the lake. Now your aunt, that’s another story.”</p><p>“Stop corrupting my kids, Lexa! Clarke, please distract your fiancée. She’s a terrible influence.”</p><p>“At least she’s not stealing from the bank again.”</p><p>“Are we going to stage another revolution? I’m ready to fight tyrants.”</p><p>“Abby is looking for Raven, apparently she’s in charge of the music and lighting—”</p><p>“—she’s probably making out with my brother in the back again, hold on, I’ll put a stop to that nonsense, stupid Bellamy—”</p><p>“Will someone help me find the twins? They were right here, and now they’re gone. Maddies? Maddies!”  </p><p>“For the last time, Lizzie, <em>no</em>, I don’t care if you don’t want to get married. None of us have ever cared.”</p><p>“I need to go to the grocery store. Lexa grab your things, I want to show you off to Betty. Her daughter-in-law <em>never</em>visits or calls.”</p><p>“Anya, you don’t have to help out, you’re a guest.”</p><p>“And what am I? Why do I have to help?</p><p>“John, be careful, those cups are hot—”</p><p>“Lexa! Are you coming or what? If we don’t hurry we’ll miss Betty completely—”</p><p>“—for the last time, Octavia, your brother and I are <em>not</em>dating, stop asking about it—”</p><p>“—what do you mean we’re not dating, I thought—”</p><p>“Madison! Put that cookie right back where you found it, you’ll ruin your dinner!”</p><p>“But even Clarke is getting married before me, now it’s just kind of embarrassing—”</p><p>“Will someone please shut that God awful music up? Who let Raven be in charge of the music, anyway?”</p><p>“John, slingshots have never been appropriate gifts, what are you doing?”</p><p>“Come on, Lexa. It’s <em>Betty</em>, I have to show off in front of <em>Betty</em>.”</p><p>“Glad to be back?” Clarke asked, leaning into Lexa, a tiny smile on her lips.</p><p>“Always,” she answered with a laugh.</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>In hindsight, she should’ve known better than to go out with Abby only a day before the wedding.</p><p>Mrs. Griffin had baked enough to feed a small army, and Lexa had volunteered to go out with her soon to be mother-in-law to buy the essentials, things like milk and eggs and for whatever reason, beef jerky for John. She hadn’t thought that being gone for about an hour would lead to utter chaos in the kitchen, would lead to an angry Clarke and a satisfied looking Sarah.</p><p>“You promised me.” Lexa watched Clarke stalk off, and it took her merely a second before she went after her, heart hammering, nerves fried, not quite sure what could have happened to cause such anger. Clarke was halfway up the stairs before Lexa caught up to her, gently grabbing her wrist, eyes wide when Clarke turned to look at her with tears in her eyes.</p><p>“Clarke…what happened?”</p><p>“You promised me no drama. You said it would be fine.”</p><p>“Did Sarah do something?” Her back straightened, feeling anger course through her own veins as she watched tears roll down Clarke’s cheeks, her stomach twisting when she stepped forward only to have Clarke pull away.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Then what?”</p><p>“You told her everything.”</p><p>“I was taking Mrs. Griffin’s advice. You didn’t like how she was acting so I tried to be friendly, had a chat with her.”</p><p>“She told me I didn’t deserve you. She said I deserved something better, someone who wouldn’t always run away, someone who didn’t make the same mistake again and again.”</p><p>“Clarke—”</p><p>“She had no right to say that. She doesn’t know you. She has no idea what we went through, because I know you, and I know you always make it sound like you’re the bad guy when you’re not. And I—” Lexa silenced her by pulling her into a kiss, one hand at her waist, the other at her neck, trying to bring her closer, ever closer. She knew she was crying, could feel the tears roll down her cheeks, and her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, her heart raced, her hands shook. She was overcome, hopelessly, terribly, forcefully overcome, and she had no strength to pull away from Clarke—no desire to pull away from her. It was only when Clarke gently leaned back, pressing their foreheads together, that she was finally able to breathe, to open her eyes, to stifle the tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks. “I love you,” Clarke murmured, hands going up to cradle Lexa’s face, wiping the tears away. And Lexa, she was lost in the blue of Clarke’s eyes, finding comfort and love and safety in them like she had so many years ago, on a cold, miserable sort of day in the middle of finals.  </p><p>“You defended me.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“You caused drama.”</p><p>“In defense of your honor.”</p><p>“You’re a sap.”</p><p>“You’re the one crying.”</p><p>“I’m sorry about the drama.”</p><p>“It’s all right,” Clarke said, climbing a few steps, pulling Lexa with her by the wrists. “I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>She smiled when Mrs. Griffin merely gestured to the fresh cup of tea on the table, all set, as if she knew Lexa wouldn’t be able to sleep.</p><p>“I couldn’t sleep before my big day, either,” she said, leaning back as she reminisced. “Not James, though. The man slept like a log.”</p><p>“I’m not nervous,” Lexa hurriedly explained, sitting down at the table, hands wrapping around the warm mug. The kitchen was clear now, all signs of the disaster from earlier long since cleaned up. “John dropped the rings into the drain, didn’t he?”</p><p>“We managed to fish it out. And at least it wasn’t the engagement ring. My grandmother would come back to haunt us if she thought for one second we were mistreating her old ring.”</p><p>“I heard she’d been making comments all morning. Sarah, I mean.”</p><p>“She really doesn’t like you, Lexa. We all were quite offended on your behalf. Madelyn and Madison put their slingshots to good use, Abby kept you distracted, Raven and Octavia sabotaged the cake…” She laughed, shrugged, and rolled her eyes. “Admittedly, it got sort of chaotic at the end, with the food fight and all.”</p><p>“It wasn’t supposed to be dramatic.”</p><p>“Come on, it’s a wedding. Weddings always have crazy stories.”</p><p>“Do you think so?”</p><p>“Of course. John was so nervous before he got married to Kate that he died his hair blue on accident. And James went to the wrong church for Jake’s wedding. Was there for half the service before he realized his son was nowhere in sight.”</p><p>“I think angry ex-girlfriend sort of tops the list of crazy things, don’t you?”</p><p>“Yes, well, you’ve always been an overachiever. Besides, it’s a day the kids will always remember. A funny story to tell. All in all, I’d say you were pretty successful.”</p><p>“In what?”</p><p>“Bringing my family together again. All of you in one place is always nice.” Lexa nodded, and before she could overthink it, she got up and hugged Mrs. Griffin, unable to verbalize the feelings trapped in her chest, lodged somewhere in her throat.</p><p>But when Mrs. Griffin hugged her back, grip tight and strong, she realized it didn’t matter: she’d understood anyway.  </p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>In the end, she didn’t remember much of the actual wedding.</p><p>She remembered the dress—remembered the way it clung to Clarke, the way she practically glided towards her, face glowing, eyes bright. She remembered the kiss, the applause (John’s hoots and hollers, Kate’s hisses for him to be quiet), the music, and their first dance. She remembered the feel of Clarke against her chest, their ribcages rising and falling in tandem, remembered the laughter when Clarke slipped slightly on her dress and Lexa steadied her. (She didn’t remember the food or drink or cake, didn’t remember if they even had anything to eat at all.)</p><p>She remembered Clarke’s smile.</p><p>Her hair. The smell of her perfume. Abby tears, John’s dance with Clarke (and then his dance with Lexa, claiming she was like his daughter too), Mrs. Griffin’s jokes and pastries and claims she knew this day would come from the first second she laid eyes on Lexa and Clarke together.</p><p>She remembered Clarke’s grip on her hand.</p><p>The tiny space between them, always tethered somehow. The kisses throughout the night (each one, each one committed to memory, etched into her skull where she’d never lose track of it).</p><p>Most of all, she remembered smiling so wide that her face hurt, remembered that feeling that started from her toes and reached all the way up—a warmth, a bubbling, simultaneously exciting and peaceful—and the way her heart beat, its pounding and rushing and thrashing, as if uncontained, as if free, as if liberated.</p><p>(She remembered that best of all because that feeling never went away.)</p><p>She blinked once, twice, three times, and she smiled at the love of her life, her wife, her world.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: this is the end. hope you've enjoyed! stay safe, happy, and healthy out there, be kind to yourselves, and hit me up on Tumblr (@c-optimistic) for prompts or just to chat.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She’d known it would be a bad idea to move away from campus and closer to the suburbs only after a year of dating. (She didn’t really want to think about how she lost <em>that</em>argument. One minute she’d been standing her ground, the next Clarke was smiling at her and they were looking for bigger apartments, even small <em>homes</em>they could rent out.) So the day Ellie knocked on their door, her hair matted by the rain, clothes soaked through—looking like she’d walked to their apartment—Lexa could do nothing but turn to Clarke with a raised eyebrow, silently asking, <em>Do you see now?</em></p><p>“We’re in walking distance of <em>John’s</em>house,” she hissed, eyes on the closed bedroom door, behind which Ellie was changing into a pair of dry clothes. “Do you know what that means?”</p><p>“That we’re in walking distance of my uncle’s house?”</p><p>“That<em>John</em>could come over whenever he wants! Clarke, we’ll never escape the jokes.”</p><p>“I’m thinking you’re being just a little bit dramatic,” Clarke said with a smile, pressing a kiss to Lexa’s forehead as she left the kitchen table and busied herself with the kettle. Several minutes later, when Ellie shuffled sullenly into the kitchen, plopping down on Clarke’s newly vacated seat, Clarke set a mug of hot chocolate in front of her cousin, leaning heavily on Lexa’s shoulder. “So, El, any reason you decided you wanted to play in the rain?”</p><p>“Did you call my dad?”</p><p>“Willingly, never,” Lexa huffed, ignoring Clarke’s swat and leaning towards Ellie with narrowed eyes. “Do your dad and mom not know where you are?” Ellie twisted the fabric of Clarke’s old sweater, her eyes on the table, shoulders hunched and expression defeated. “Ellie?” Lexa prompted, gently gripping the hand Clarke placed on her shoulder.</p><p>“They don’t, no,” Ellie admitted quietly. “Please don’t tell them I’m here.” She looked up then, eyes wide and desperate. “Please let me stay here for a while. <em>Please</em>.” Lexa looked up at Clarke who was biting her lip as she stared at her cousin, clearly on the fence.</p><p>“How about this,” she finally said, glancing down at Lexa just for a moment, “I call Uncle John,” Ellie began violently shaking her head, “and tell him I need your help planning Lexa’s birthday.” She stepped away from Lexa and towards her cousin, bending slightly so that they were eye-level, reaching out to brush Ellie’s wet hair out of her eyes. To Lexa, it looked almost…maternal. “You want to tell me what all this is about, though?”</p><p>“It’s nothing. I just…I just want to stay with you.”</p><p>(That night, Lexa made up the couch for Ellie, fluffing pillows and anxiously debating how many blankets she’d need until the younger girl gave a watery smile and rushed forward to hug her. And Lexa found she didn’t quite mind that they were a walking distance from John’s house.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Clarke?” Ellie asked, rubbing her eyes as she walked into the kitchen. Lexa gave her a smile, motioned for her to sit, and then placed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her, complete with tea and toast. Ellie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she sat down, using her fork to play with the food.</p><p>“Clarke went to the library. She’s studying.”</p><p>“So she left me with you?”</p><p>“You’re the one who up and decided to live with us for the past week, El,” Lexa pointed out, taking a careful sip of her tea. “Besides, as it’s the weekend, I thought you and I could spend some time together.”</p><p>“What, Clarke set the aspiring lawyer on me? I’m not in any sort of <em>trouble</em>, Lexa,” she said, spearing some eggs on her fork and twirling it in the air. Lexa watched her for a second, annoyed, before Ellie seemed to sense it and shoved the forkful of eggs into her mouth, mumbling about how great it tasted.</p><p>“Well if you’re not in trouble why don’t you go home? I’ve talked to your dad every day this week, Ellie, do you know how many jokes I’ve had to listen to?”</p><p>“I just can’t okay?”</p><p>“But why?”</p><p>“Grandma didn’t push you this much when you were being dumb about Clarke—”</p><p>“—this isn’t about me, Ellie, it’s about <em>you</em>. So suck it up and just tell me what happened.” She didn’t think it’d work, the annoyed outburst. In fact, she rather expected Ellie to clam up further, for her shoulders to slump once more, for her expression to go blank. Lexa was not good with teenagers—the assumption she and Clarke had made was that she’d frustrate Ellie into wanting to go home.</p><p>She didn’t think she’d frustrate Ellie to tears.</p><p>“I-I think s-something’s <em>wrong</em>with me,” the teenager said between hiccups and sobs, her fork clattering onto her plate, her entire body shaking. Lexa was frozen, unsure how to proceed—did teenagers want hugs and comfort? Should she pretend she didn’t notice the tears?</p><p>(When she was in high school, Lexa would have been mortified to have anyone see her cry. She’d always been quiet, reticent, even a little aloof. Vulnerability was never her thing—not in herself, and certainly not in others.)</p><p>(And if Clarke would disagree and call her mush…well, Clarke wasn’t here at the moment.)</p><p>“Ellie?” Lexa tried, slowly holding her arms out in a silent question. Ellie didn’t hesitate; she accepted Lexa’s embrace, leaning into her, angle awkward and likely uncomfortable though neither of them made any attempt to move. “Why do you think that?” she asked softly, rubbing gentle circles into Ellie’s back, attempting to channel Clarke’s soothing manner, her kind voice, while ignoring the tears she felt soaking the material of her shirt.</p><p>“He-he<em>kissed</em>me, and I f-felt <em>nothing</em>,” Ellie said, voice muffled by Lexa’s shoulder, even if her words were clear.</p><p>(It broke Lexa’s heart, seeing her so distraught over this, so sure that she was broken and not just different. It broke Lexa’s heart that she thought running away from her parents was preferable to talking to them.)</p><p>“Oh Ellie, no. There’s nothing wrong with you. Maybe he’s just a bad kisser. Or maybe you’re like me. Or maybe you’re like someone I knew in college who just didn’t like anyone that way. But there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.”</p><p>“How did you know?”</p><p>“Sarah kissed me on the cheek in ninth grade. It made my heart do funny things.”</p><p>“Do you promise?” Ellie asked, pulling away and wiping hurriedly at her cheeks. “Do you promise there’s nothing wrong with me?”</p><p>“Regardless of who you like or don’t like, Ellie, you’re wonderful, intelligent, and beautiful. Though admittedly, you <em>are</em>a bit gossipy. But you get that from Mrs. Griffin.” She winked at the younger girl and Ellie chuckled, sounding more relieved than amused. “No matter what, you know your family will always love you, right? And that Clarke and I will always have a place for you here?”</p><p>“Yeah. Clarke says you’re mush.” Lexa rolled her eyes, pointing to Ellie’s now cold plate of eggs.</p><p>“Eat your breakfast, I still have a history museum to take you to.”</p><p>“Lexa,” Ellie said softly, reaching out to grab Lexa’s hand, preventing her from getting up from the table, “I think I’ll go home tomorrow.”</p><p>“Okay. Whatever you want.”</p><p>“I think I might tell them.”</p><p>“Do you want me to come with you?”</p><p>“You and Clarke?”</p><p>“If you want.”</p><p>“Okay.” She bit her lip, pushing the eggs around a little before releasing Lexa’s hand. “I’m really glad you and Clarke worked things out. I’m really glad you’re around….” She cleared her voice, looking alarmed at how emotional she was being, “You know, for the drama.”</p><p>“I aim to please,” Lexa said, shaking her head. “Hurry up with your breakfast, I was serious about the museum.”</p><p>That night, long after Ellie fell asleep during the movie they put on, Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa’s neck and shook her head.</p><p>“You told a sixteen year old questioning her sexuality to ‘suck it up’ and just tell you what happened?”</p><p>“I’d be a terrible mom,” she commented lightly, watching as Ellie shifted in her sleep, looking relaxed and peaceful for the first time since she showed up at their door, soaked to the bone.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Clarke said slowly, a smile on her face, “I think you’d do an okay job.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“He was supposed to take them for the holiday but Trevor being Trevor means his girlfriend takes precedence to his own children,” Hannah Griffin ranted, wordlessly asking for another cup of coffee. Clarke refilled the mug with a slight frown, managing to convey her worry for her aunt and her confusion over this visit with just a look. Lexa, who was busy attempting to make sure the Maddies didn’t destroy their furniture or accidentally harm themselves, just hoped that this wasn’t all leading up to what she feared it was leading up to. “And there’s no way I can find a babysitter on such short notice, and if your grandmother wasn’t being so stubborn—”</p><p>“Aunt Hannah, Lexa and I don’t have much time off. We were hoping to just spend time together.”</p><p>“You and everyone else. John took his family on vacation, I can’t even <em>reach</em>Lizzie—phone goes straight to voicemail—so you and Lexa are really my last hope.” Lexa opened her mouth to protest when she felt something heavy jump on her back, knocking her off balance and taking her to the ground. Before she could utter a single word, Maddie One was holding her down and Maddie Two was busy braiding her hair.</p><p>“Madison, Madelyn, get off Lexa and be polite,” Hannah said wearily and without much conviction, as if sure that her words would have no effect. (They don’t; the Maddies cheerfully continued doing exactly what they were doing.) “I wouldn’t ask, Clarke, but this trip is important for work—” Lexa barely managed to contain the urge to ask if that work entailed the CIA “—and I really need someone to watch the twins.”</p><p>“We’ll do it, Hannah,” Lexa called from her position on the floor, wincing when Maddie Two tugged a little too tightly on her hair, likely leaving a bald spot there. “We don’t mind, right Clarke?” Judging by Clarke’s look, she certainly did mind, but the relief on Hannah’s face was palpable, her expression quickly returning to the cool, calm control that Lexa so admired. Now that the sheer panic was gone, there was even a hint of a tiny smile at the corner of her lips. “It’ll be great,” Lexa continued, wincing again when Maddie Two tugged at her hair. “They can even help with the wedding planning.”</p><p>“Yeah, great,” Clarke said with raised eyebrows, watching as Maddie One began bouncing on Lexa’s back. “That’s what we’ve been lacking, twelve year old wedding planners.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“No, Madison, you cannot have ice cream before dinner.”</p><p>“Mom always gives us ice cream before dinner.”</p><p>“I’ve known your mom longer than you. I can’t even remember a time Aunt Hannah <em>bought</em>ice cream let alone ate it. Now go sit down next to your sister, it’s time to eat.”</p><p>“Clarke, can <em>I</em>have ice cream before dinner?” Lexa asked, chuckling when Clarke shot her a glare in response.</p><p>“After I toiled away in front of the hot stove all afternoon, you want to have ice cream for dinner?”</p><p>“But Clarke,” Madelyn cut in, “you told me that you were glad the restaurant delivers.” Lexa gasped, placing a hand over her heart and leaning back in her chair dramatically.</p><p>“Egad! Lied to by my own fiancée! The pain! The <em>betrayal!</em>” Madison giggled, mimicking Lexa’s antics, and Clarke shook her head, pursing her lips in an attempt to hide her smile.</p><p>“Are you done?” she asked, raising an eyebrow when Lexa tried to goad Madelyn into helping her.</p><p>“Can we have ice cream before dinner?” Lexa asked, leaning forward, folding her hands on the table and adopting a very serious look. “My clients and I are prepared to negotiate.”</p><p>“Lexa—”</p><p>“Madison and Madelyn promise to eat at least half of their vegetables in return for having dessert before dinner.” Madelyn motioned for Lexa to lean over.</p><p>“Two scoops,” she whispered. “And sprinkles.” Lexa nodded in agreement and turned back to Clarke.</p><p>“My clients wish to clarify that they get two scoops <em>with</em>sprinkles.”</p><p>“Fine, but they have to eat <em>all</em>of their vegetables. No slipping it onto your plate,” Clarke countered, crossing her arms over her chest. Lexa blinked slowly then motioned for the Maddies to lean closer to her.</p><p>“I think that’s the best deal we’ll get, girls,” she whispered, catching Clarke rolling her eyes from over Madison’s shoulder. “Shall I strike the bargain?” They nodded in excitement and Lexa pulled back, clearing her throat carefully. “My clients agree to your conditions,” she said, feeling warm and light as Clarke shook her head, attempting to quell her smile, as Madison and Madelyn jumped up and down in their seat. “Come on, Maddies. You grabs bowls and spoons and I’ll fish out the ice cream and sprinkles.”</p><p>(Lexa didn’t actually expect the twins to eat all their vegetables, so when she got clear plates after dinner—Madelyn still blessedly awake and not covered in sauce unlike the previous night—she couldn’t help but laugh and point it out to Clarke.)</p><p>(When Clarke off-handedly mentioned she’d spoil their kids rotten, the thought just made Lexa smile even wider.)</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>They’d been married for about a year before Clarke broached the subject.</p><p>It wasn’t as if Lexa was <em>against</em>children. She didn’t know how to act around them, didn’t know how to treat them, didn’t know what they needed, but she liked them just fine. It had always been a concept she looked at from a distance—the assumption was that children came much later in life and she still wasn’t in that part of life, ignoring the fact that she was nearing thirty.</p><p>To her credit, Clarke started off slowly. First it was coos at children they’d pass in the street, then it was sappy movies about motherhood, then it was a less subtle brochure being ‘accidentally’ found in the mail (Lexa didn’t mention that Clarke’s name was on the envelope), before culminating in Clarke sitting Lexa down and flat out asking if she wanted children.</p><p>(She did. She liked kids. But despite the few times they took care of the Maddies, the handful of times Ellie and Peter stayed with them, the one time Indra had Lexa and Clarke watch Lincoln and Artemis, she didn’t know anything about children.)</p><p>(She was fairly sure in order to raise a kid you had to know a little something about raising kids.)</p><p>Clarke never pushed the idea, though Lexa could see how much she wanted it, pages about IVF bookmarked on her computer, adoption agencies saved into her contacts. And Lexa, scared, hopeful, and very much wanting to make Clarke happy, found herself driving in the opposite direction one afternoon instead of going home after work.</p><p>(Because when in doubt, Lexa turned to Carol Griffin.)</p><p>“You should’ve come over yesterday,” Carol said cheerfully when she opened the door, “Betty was here and she would’ve been absolutely <em>green</em>with envy.”</p><p>“I’ll call ahead next time. Then you can invite everyone,” Lexa said, accepting Carol’s usual tight hug and cheek pat.</p><p>“Why didn’t you bring Clarke? Not that I don’t love you, but I do wish I could see my other granddaughter once in a while.” Like always, Carol’s blasé assertions that she considered Lexa as good as a granddaughter made Lexa warm and awkward all at once, unable to meet the older woman’s eyes until the surge of affection died down.</p><p>“She doesn’t know I’m here.”</p><p>“Ah. So I suppose that means I should put on the tea then,” Carol chuckled, closing the door behind Lexa and leading her to the kitchen. Many more photos had been added to the walls—a few of Ellie’s high school graduation, one of Peter’s horrified expression as his parents dragged him to get his hair cut, another of Hannah’s trip to a theme park with the twins, and one of Clarke and Lexa on their wedding day, eyes on each other, silly smiles on their faces. That was the one Lexa paused at, biting her lip as she studied Clarke’s expression—the curve of her smile, the light in her eyes, that soft tilt of her chin, as if reaching out towards Lexa. </p><p>“This is my favorite,” she told Carol, turning around and noticing the older woman was watching her carefully. “She looks so happy.”</p><p>“So do you.”</p><p>“She wants kids, Mrs. Griffin.” Carol smiled in response, taking Lexa by the elbow and guiding her away from the photo.</p><p>“I think this calls for something a little stronger than tea,” she said with a grin, shoving Lexa down into a chair as she busied herself with grabbing mugs, teabags, and whiskey. Almost as an afterthought, she brought out to large slices of cake, muttering that Betty didn’t even eat a bite, even after all the work that went into making it. Lexa took it as the warning it was and when Carol settled down across from her—the entire thing feeling familiar and safe and like <em>home</em>—she made it a point to take a large bite of the cake. “So,” Carol began as Lexa chewed, “what’s this about the kids?”</p><p>“Clarke wants them,” Lexa said, swallowing.</p><p>“I know. But what’s the issue? Do you not want them?”</p><p>“I do, but—”</p><p>“—is it because you think you can’t have them? It doesn’t matter that you’re both girls, hon. Science is incredible and adoption is always an option.” Lexa felt her eyes widen and hurriedly took a gulp of her tea to hide her flaming cheeks. It turned out to be a mistake; she coughed and spluttered as the more whiskey than tea went down. </p><p>“N-no, that’s not it,” she said quickly, eyes watering. “Clarke is a pediatrician. She’s wonderful with kids. She knows exactly what to do and…well, I don’t.” She avoided Carol’s eyes, feeling rather childish admitting that she was worried about raising children to a woman who raised four (or rather, five, as Lexa felt John counted as two kids). “I’d be useless. I don’t even have anything to offer a kid. What if I don’t make a good mom?”</p><p>“Remember Peter’s flu a few years back?” Carol said after a short pause.</p><p>“Yeah. He was really sick, made beating him at his own video game less fun.”</p><p>“Did you know that he still talks about it all the time?” Carol asked, taking a sip of her tea to make sure Lexa had time to process her comment. “Did you know that Ellie bragged so much about her cousin’s wife in her last two years of high school that John and Kate got a phone call about it? Apparently it was frustrating the other students.”</p><p>“I—”</p><p>“Did you know Madison and Madelyn told Hannah that they want to be lawyers like you?” When Lexa just took another sip of her strong tea, Carol laughed, reaching out to pat Lexa’s hand. “Raising kids is tough. I don’t know if anyone ever really knows what they’re doing. What I do know is you and Clarke would be wonderful parents. I don’t see how it could be otherwise with all that love you have to give.”</p><p>“Even if we give our kid a terrible name? What if they grow up with John is a walking distance away?”</p><p>“You could always move, hon.”    </p><p>“Can I finish my tea and cake before I go?”</p><p>“As if I’d let you leave otherwise.”</p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>“Careful, there’s a step.”</p><p>“Lexa, don’t hover.”</p><p>“I’m not hovering.”</p><p>“You are, you’re hovering. I’m pregnant not an invalid, I can walk on my own.”</p><p>“I know you can, Clarke, I’m not—”</p><p>“Clarke, Clarke, you’ll never believe it, <em>Lizzie</em>is <em>engaged</em>,” Abby said, walking out of the house and taking Clarke’s other arm. Lexa shot her mother-in-law a grateful look and rushed back to the car, grabbing their bags, before hurriedly going after her wife.</p><p>“—possible,” Clarke was saying when Lexa rejoined them, one hand over her mouth. “I thought Aunt Lizzie <em>swore</em>—”</p><p>“She, and I quote, ‘had a change of heart.’”</p><p>“Are we happy about it or are we secretly judging?” Lexa asked, shifting the bags a little, wondering what her wife could’ve packed for a three day Christmas holiday to make everything so <em>heavy</em>.</p><p>“It’s Lizzie, of course we’re secretly judging,” Abby said, ignoring her daughter’s huff and winking when Lexa couldn’t help her snort.</p><p>“Well I’m happy for Aunt Lizzie. Maybe now she’ll leave me alone about naming our daughter Elizabeth.” When Abby looked confused, Lexa cut in to elaborate.</p><p>“She says she’ll take Lizzie Junior too. We tried explaining that’s not how it works, but well…”</p><p>“Have you chosen a name?”</p><p>“She won’t allow anything interesting,” Clarke muttered, narrowing her eyes at Lexa. “But we have settled on a middle name.”</p><p>“We were actually—” But Lexa never got to finish her comment. At that moment, the door swung open and Peter rushed out, immediately grabbing Lexa and Clarke’s bags, shaking one of them as he gave Lexa a searching look.</p><p>“Video games for Christmas?” he asked, frowning when Lexa just shrugged.</p><p>“Hey Peter, it’s me, your very pregnant cousin you nearly barreled over for a Christmas gift.”</p><p>“Oh hey Clarke,” Peter said distractedly, not even sparing Clarke a glance as he hefted the bags through the door and up the stairs. Abby guided Clarke to the living room while Lexa hugged Carol and waved at the Maddies, softly explaining to Hannah that her mother and sister would come by on Christmas Day. From the kitchen, Raven and Bellamy (in their second year of engagement, neither one really interested in planning a wedding) were singing loudly and off key while Octavia teased a blushing Ellie about college life.</p><p>And as always, being among the Griffins—despite their boisterousness—felt safe and warm, like a burden had been taken off her shoulders, like if she chose to jump off that metaphorical cliff of Carol’s, she could be sure they’d all be ready to catch her.</p><p>And as always, among the Griffins, Lexa couldn’t help but feel at home.   </p><p> </p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>They were sitting in one of the wide chairs on the porch, Clarke perched between Lexa’s legs, her back pressed against Lexa’s front, warming themselves up with a large blanket and hot chocolate, when Carol found them.</p><p>“Isn’t it a bit too cold for you two to be out here?” Carol asked, staring pointedly at Clarke. When Lexa nodded in agreement, Clarke scoffed.</p><p>“I<em>just</em>got her to stop talking about how I shouldn’t be out in the cold. Over-protective Lexa is taking the night off so that I won’t <em>kill</em>her.”</p><p>“Clarke’s not always violent. I think it might be the hormones,” Lexa commented dryly, letting out a grunt when Clarke elbowed her hard in the stomach. “I mean, Clarke is absolutely right, I’m over-protective and annoying. Is that better?”</p><p>“Well perhaps it’s better than you two are out here. John is betting Lizzie and Hannah that you’ll name your kid after him.”</p><p>“We’re having a girl,” Lexa frowned, making Carol laugh.</p><p>“Yes, well, my son has a knack for hoping for the unlikely.”</p><p>“Do you want to win the bet, Grandma?”</p><p>“I thought you hadn’t chosen a name.”</p><p>“Not a first name, no. But we’ve settled on a middle name, right Lexa?” Lexa nodded, tangling her free hand with Clarke’s, silently encouraging Clarke to go on. “We chose Carol.” And for the first time since meeting Carol Griffin, Lexa saw her at a loss for words.</p><p>“If it wasn’t for you, Mrs. Griffin, I don’t think we would’ve made it to this point.”</p><p>“And without you, who would teach me to respect the candy?” Clarke asked, untangling herself from Lexa and getting to her feet, their blanket dragging behind her as she pulled her grandmother into a tight hug. “Lexa says it’s sappy, but she only says that cause she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s mush, but naming our kid after you felt like the greatest thing we could do for her, you know?”</p><p>“I do hope she has less affinity for metaphors though. Otherwise I’ll never understand my own daughter,” Lexa said when Carol’s silence stretched on. “Are you okay, Mrs. Griffin?”</p><p>“Okay?” she repeated incredulously. “My great-granddaughter’s being named after me. Of course I’m not okay.”</p><p>“Do you think baking will help?” Lexa asked hesitantly, getting to her feet and approaching Clarke and Carol. “I’ve practiced, my cakes turn out pretty well now.”</p><p>“You stay out of my kitchen, Lexa Woods,” Carol muttered, grabbing them both and hugging them. Then, without another word, she released them, patted them each on the cheek, looking positively teary, and turned around to reenter the house.</p><p>After a long moment, Lexa took Clarke’s hand and smile at her.</p><p>“We should really get you inside, Clarke. It’s cold.”</p><p>“For the hundredth time, I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”</p><p>“I’m not saying you are, my over-protectiveness is a testament to my love for you.”</p><p>“Well, bub, you could stand to love me a little less,” Clarke said, the kiss she pressed to Lexa’s lips belying her words. “You bought Peter the video games he wanted, didn’t you?” she asked once she pulled away.</p><p>“Of course. <em>I’m</em>their favorite for a reason.”</p><p>“If you spoil our kid, so help me…” She trailed of threateningly, but Lexa just laughed, tugging on Clarke’s beanie and making sure it was secure around her ears.</p><p>“Come on. I want to hear all about Elizabeth’s engagement. Octavia says it might push Bellamy and Raven into finally tying the knot.”</p><p>“Oh god no. Then Aunt Lizzie won’t ever stop complaining about how even ‘the uncommitted duo’ got married before her.” Clarke handed Lexa the large blanket as she walked back into the house, and after a moment—with only the slightest bit of awe about how things turned out—Lexa followed her.  </p>
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